Damaged
by ThePotterDoctor
Summary: Clara Oswald is damaged. University is a chance for her to get a fresh start, but she can't keep pretending she's okay. Yet, nobody can fix her, not even a mysterious physics student who calls himself the Doctor. And she won't let herself get attached to him, or he'll just leave her more broken... Whouffle AU Set at University. FINISHED AND THE SEQUEL IS ON ITS WAY.
1. Chapter 1: A New Beginning

***Hello all! Merry Christmas! It's almost noon here in the UK and I've had breakfast, dived into my presents and unwrapped a lot of Who goodies, including Day of the Doctor on DVD, the 11 stories for 11 Doctors and a TARDIS key ring. I hope everyone is enjoying their day, so here's a new fanfiction to brighten your Christmas day, before we all break down and 11 regenerates. Less than 8 hours now... Anyway, this is an AU fic, set at University. In this first chapter, we see how broken and alone Clara Oswald is. Can anyone pick up the pieces? Please, please, review, follow, favourite and thank you so much for reading. Another chapter, coming your way soon... TPD P.S I totally gave myself a cameo in this story, because what's the point in being an author if you can't give yourself a cool job?***

Clara wasn't sure where she was. She was lost, unable to find anyone to guide her. She was so engrossed in her map that she almost walked into a lamppost, before diving to her left at the last minute, colliding with a young man similarly engrossed in a map coming from the other way. The two tumbled and she grabbed hold of his jacket to right herself, dragging him on top of her. She felt the wind knocked out of her as an elbow hammered itself into her stomach and she gasped as he rolled off her, crumpling her arm in the process. The boy scrambled to his feet, running one hand through his floppy dark hair and offering Clara the other.

"Oh my God, are you alright?" he asked frantically. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, lost in my head. I seem to do that a lot," he mused.

"It's alright," Clara informed him, accepting his offer of a hand up and smiling warmly to show she was alright, despite the intense pain still throbbing in her chest. The contact between them lasted a second longer than it should have and Clara blushed. "It was my fault, I ran into you. I take it you're as lost as me?"

"Lost? Goodness no!" the boy chuckled. "I was just taking the scenic route. So scenic, I appear to have forgotten where I was going in the first place, funny how these things happen. We're just outside the Chemistry building, I think…"

Clara examined the boy properly for the first time. He was a lot taller than she was, but then she was very short. He was wearing a tweed jacket, suspenders and a long, black tie. His eyes were furiously intense but yet light and funny at the same time and he had a very awkward stance about him, the way he stood, the way he smiled, the constant look on his face like he'd forgotten what he was supposed to be doing. He was a thoroughly peculiar boy, Clara thought, but she couldn't help but warm to his gangly body and awkward demeanour.

"I don't suppose you have any idea where the English department is, do you?" she asked exasperatedly. "I'm supposed to be there in like 5 minutes and I'm hopelessly lost. This map is less than useless."

"Let me see," the boy moved alongside her, instead of facing her and clasped the map in her hands. She let him take it and leaned over so they could both see it. Clara tried to ignore the proximity his face was from hers. He seemed oblivious to it. Typical guy, Clara thought. "Ah, there we are," he pointed. "And that's where you want to be!" he indicated. "Just take the next left and then keep walking until you reach the psychology block, then turn right. If you hit physics, you've gone too far. Ah Physics!" he exclaimed, grinning and taking Clara aback as he clicked his fingers and thrust the map back at her. "That's where I was meant to be going! Shall we?"

Clara nodded, not even slightly surprised that this eccentric man-child, probably her age, was a physicist. Clara had never been big on science, but she'd still scored A's at her GCSEs and knew a bit of rudimentary physics. This guy looked like he could tell her everything there was to know and not even stop to breathe. As they walked, she ingested more information about the stranger, despite the fact that neither of them probed too much. The way he grinned at everything told her that he was carefree but his eyes betrayed him. She knew the type. So hurt by the world but so eager to hide it. He threw himself into life, ignoring the fact that he had clearly suffered in the past and was probably still suffering. Clara was the same, although she'd never admit it. She was like him; she threw herself into the bigger picture, rather than every little intricacy. Everything was part of a bigger picture. This was probably why she was studying English Literature, to try and pick the brains of geniuses. This boy, however, threw himself into the world, not into people. What did that tell her about him? Not a lot, she supposed. She tried not to let herself be too interested by this stranger, as it was unlikely she'd ever see him again.

"So where else are you applying?" she asked casually. "Is this your first choice?"

"This is my only choice," he admitted, causing her to raise an eyebrow. "I know I'll get in, I've taken a few courses early you see." He was embarrassed by this, Clara could tell. "I just wanted to check out the place properly before thoroughly committing myself to it. I take it you're starting in September too?"

Clara nodded. "Providing I get the grades," she added quickly. "But my parents and teachers seem to think I will." She was about to correct herself but couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't reveal herself to this stranger. She bit her tongue and tried not to cry. She'd gotten so used to saying parents. Instead of parent. Instead of just Dad. Thankfully, she must've been fairly convincing as all he did was smile warmly and squeeze her arm. It should've been an odd gesture, coming from a total stranger, but it made Clara feel better.

"You'll get in. You're smart. I can tell," the boy informed her. "Trust me, I know these things. And this is psychology. So I suppose, I shall see you in September, if luck would have it. Goodbye, Clara."

"How did you know my name?" Clara gasped, taking a step away from him. "Who are you?"

"Name tag," he chuckled and Clara glanced down and blushed furiously. She felt stupid. She looked for his but he wasn't wearing one. "And as for me? They call me the Doctor." And before she could quiz this strange boy further, he'd already raised a hand in farewell and wondered off towards the physics block, assuming he'd remembered where he was going. Clara shook her head and watched him stroll off. She checked her watch and swore, before running to find the English department.

* * *

For Clara Oswald, this was the first day of the rest of her life. The day she started university and moved forwards instead of looking back. Instead of crying on Angie's shoulder while she and Artie tried to comfort Clara. They had a permanent babysitter now and Clara was an adult, it was time for them both to move on with their lives. It had only been a year and a half since…but Clara didn't think about it as much anymore. And when she did, she was getting much better at controlling the swirling inferno of emotions that overcame her. She could smile now and almost mean it. She could tell people fell for the act she'd put on, the warm smile, the light chuckle, the flirtatious nature. Guys thought they had a shot with her and they probably did, she'd been desperately hunting for ways to make the pain stop. The minute she'd turned 18, she'd hit the booze like never before and had had to actually work to ensure that her grades didn't slip as a result. Clara didn't quite consider it a miracle she'd come out with an A* and three A's, but she knew that if she hadn't managed it, she'd have let her mum down. And that was the only thing in life that she still strived to avoid. As much as she hated to admit it, she had stopped looking to her dad for support and approval.

University was a way to mix everything Clara wanted. Booze, on a scale like she'd never witnessed before, a chance to reinvent herself, pretend like she'd never pretended before. Maybe even pretend to the point where the act she was putting on might actually become her. And she could come out with a decent degree and get a good job, make her mum proud. She'd grow out of needing to numb the pain. Eventually, hopefully before the end of uni, the pain would start numbing itself.

Her dad carried the last box from the car to the small building. Clara would be sharing a block with ten other people, she didn't know what they would be like. They had en-suite bedrooms and two kitchens between them, so if needs be, she could avoid them. But they might provide useful distractions and be able to help Clara get so hammered that everything stopped making sense. She smiled at that thought. She was the first to arrive, but then the accommodation had only been open half an hour. And it had been a long drive from Blackpool, so they had stayed overnight at a hotel not far away.

"Are you sure you're alright sweetheart?" her dad asked once more. "Is there anything you need?"

Her mother back. "No dad," Clara's standard answer now. "I'm fine." Keep saying and it might become true. Her dad believed her now. He'd given up trying to look for cracks in Clara's act. Because there weren't any. Ever. And when the cracks did show, Clara had become very good at making sure nobody was around to see it. She was a perfect unit, nobody and nothing could penetrate her outer shell. At least, that was what she thought.

After she'd finished unpacking, Clara went for a stroll, to familiarise herself with the campus she'd only visited a couple of times, and not for about four or five months. She still had the map from her last visit and after a few hours of strolling around campus, she was fairly sure she had a very good idea of where everything was. It was Saturday and her first lecture was in her optional philosophy module she'd selected on the Monday. She settled down for a nice cup of tea at the café on campus, mainly because she wanted a bit of peace from having to deal with her new potential flatmates. She could sit here, not having to utilise her fake smile, with only the bottom of a tea cup to stare at, alone with her thoughts.

After a few hours, Clara headed back to her room. She nearly made it, but bumped into a couple of her new flatmates, who'd arrived while she was out. They were two of the four people in her kitchen (other than Clara herself) and both seemed like pleasant girls. One was called Britney and she was a mathematician. She was taller, older and prettier than Clara, blonde and wore glasses. But she was too nice to let all those things irk Clara; not that she ever let such petty annoyances get to her anyway. The other girl was called Josie and she was a redhead, short but still slightly taller than Clara and she studied French. The two girls seemed intent on learning everything there was to know and that they'd all be best of friends. This was exactly the sort of situation Clara had been trying to avoid. What was worse was that she couldn't bring herself to dislike the girls, because they were very nice. It was harder to avoid people that you could consider and that considered you, a friend.

After what seemed like an age, but in reality was probably only 45 minutes, Clara managed to escape and opened her window to get some fresh air. She quizzed herself on whether it was too early to crack open her first bottle of vodka. It probably was. She lay on her bed and decided that whilst it was probably too early for her first drink, it wasn't too early for her first cry. So Clara buried her head into the pillow. And screamed.

* * *

The next two days were a drunken haze. Clara had gotten utterly smashed on the Saturday night with Josie, Britney and Jack, the fourth member of their kitchen. The fifth didn't arrive until Sunday. Jack was handsome as hell, with some of the biggest muscles Clara had ever seen. He was a total dude though, rugby player, way too full of himself and a law student at that. Clara disliked him instantly, which made her feel better. He flirted with all the girls, but as Clara continued to drink them all under the table and began to care less and less about anything, he focused more and more on getting Britney into bed. They went to a club, danced for a few hours and Clara managed to let her façade come crashing down around her. She heard their fifth member arrive Sunday morning, he was in the room opposite her, but she couldn't be arsed to go out and greet him. She made herself some toast, waiting until the coast was clear as her hair was a mess; she was wearing no makeup and was wearing her white teddy-bear onesie. Let them not see that she was a desperate wreck when hungover just yet. Clara didn't leave her room until Monday morning.

She made it to her first philosophy lecture with a couple of minutes to spare and sat as far back as she could, making her home in the corner, but still managing to smile warmly at people that filed in. The façade would not fall. She had agreed to go out with the girls that night. It was partly because she needed to drink but also partly so they'd think she was normal and fun. It was a tossup for Clara, between avoiding them as much as possible and acting normally so they wouldn't think she was weird. She didn't know why she cared. Mum wouldn't want me to be lonely, she told herself. But she was. Desperately so. She'd bothered putting on makeup and picking out a nice dress. She wanted to impress her lecturer and her classmates on Day 1, even though this was only one module in her course.

The lecturer, Professor Holmes, strolled in, cursing as he dropped his pen and stooped to get it. He was insanely tall and thin, but he had a warm smile and a cool nature that quickly meant that Clara liked him instantly and she was sure she wasn't the only one. His lecture was on the role of God in modern day society and Clara found herself fascinated by it. Almost a third of the way in, she heard the door behind her fly open and someone stumble in but she paid them no attention, absorbed in the slides. She didn't even realise the person was moving to sit beside her until about a foot from her, she heard the phrase: "Clara."

She jumped but managed to supress a squeal as she spun to face the person who'd said her name. She recognised him, but it took her a few seconds to realise where from. He was wearing a tweed jacket, had floppy hair and the biggest grin known to man, despite the fact that his eyes were the saddest she'd ever seen, behind the glint in them that was. The Doctor, that's what he'd called himself.

"Sorry to scare you," he grinned. "Can I borrow a pen? I forgot mine."

Clara smiled despite herself. "Oversleep did you?" she whispered as she slipped him a spare.

"Nah, I tend not to sleep much," the Doctor told her. "I've been up since five, working on a project of mine. I just lost track of time. These things happen. If only I could control time," he chuckled as if it was an in joke. "I could be a Time Baron."

"Time Lord sounds better," Clara informed him, snorting with laughter. "How did you remember my name?" she asked, curious as to how he'd remembered her. She remembered him because he was very odd, eccentric to the point of no return and because he called himself the Doctor. Clara herself was nothing special. She had brown hair, brown eyes, she wasn't tall or even that skinny. She was ordinary, but he had remembered her. And he always smiled at her like she was different. Not that she was, of course, that was probably just his way, she assured herself.

"I always remember a face," he informed her; with a matching smile that told her he meant it. "So, what's the lecture on? Ah the role of God, love it." He set about scribbling notes and Clara found herself watching him for a good fifteen seconds before she caught herself and returned her attention to the lecture. Whoever the Doctor was, he was not going to break down her façade. That much she could be sure of.

* * *

"So why do you people call you the Doctor?" she asked him as the lecture ended and they packed up their things. "What's your real name?"

He seemed to wince at this question and it was the first time she'd seen him anything other than cheerful. He recaptured his composure and shot her an abashed look, that she knew was about as fake as the majority of the smiles she made. She felt sad looking at it, as it felt like the first time that the Doctor had tried to hide his true emotions from her. They stood up and left the lecture hall, as he considered her question.

"My real name?" he asked with a rueful grin. "That's...I don't know," he answered. "My name is lost to the ages," he chuckled theatrically. Clara rolled her eyes. She didn't want to probe him about his real name, as that would inevitably lead her to the reason behind the sad eyes. "People call me the Doctor because I fix things," he told her, as their footsteps echoed against the stone floors, people flooding around them as they found their way out into the bright, late summer sunshine. "I'm very good at it too. If you ever have a broken toaster or a kettle, or a car. Or even just a Barbie doll," he chuckled. "I can repair it."

I bet you can't fix people, Clara thought bitterly, but she didn't vocalise that thought. Nor did she say what that thought led her to. I bet you can't fix me. But she wasn't about to say that. The façade would remain intact. She hadn't even realised, but they were still walking together and she wondered where they were going.

"Where are we going?" she asked, stopping abruptly. He was a step ahead of her and swung back round to face her, another stupid grin on his stupid face. Did he ever stop smiling? It only attracted attention to his giant chin. "I mean, I was going to head home. Where's home for you?"

"Home is where the heart is," the Doctor quoted cryptically. "But I suppose, home for me is Marston's. I can't remember the block number though. Let's just walk in that general direction. I mean, I'll walk in that general direction," he stumbled over his words in that awkward way that she had realised was very endearing. "You can walk in the general direction of your accommodation. Wherever that is."

"Relax Chin-Boy!" Clara giggled. Chin-Boy? Where had that come from Oswald? "I mean, sorry, Marston's is where I'm going too. We can walk together. So I thought you were doing physics?"

"I am," the Doctor informed her, as they continued walking across campus. "But I like to stretch myself occasionally, try different things, so I thought, what the hey?! Philosophy is cool. I could be a philosopher. I'll do a philosophy module. I didn't realise I'd see you there though, I presume you're just doing it as an option like me?" Clara nodded. "Awesome. I've already decided that Professor Holmes' lectures are the only ones I'm going to bother to go to; I prefer to do physics on my own terms, in my own way. A lot of what the lecturers will say is outdated anyway, by the time they catch up…" he stopped speaking and shook his head. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I have a tendency to do that, no wonder my therapist gave up."

Clara's eyes widened at how casually he'd slipped that into the conversation. He must've noticed because he bit his lip. She wanted to ask him why he'd been to see a therapist but he looked so uncomfortable and had caught himself so quickly. He had slipped into an awkward silence and his head was bowed. Clara put a hand on his shoulder instinctively and felt a surge like an electric current run through her. She wanted to retract it more than anything, she didn't know what had possessed her to grab this stranger but he needed to know that she wasn't judging him.

"So did mine," Clara replied, before she could stop herself. His head snapped like a shot to look at her and she went crimson. Of all the things she could've said to him, she had to have said that. She'd never spoken to anyone about her therapy, not even her father. He'd known she'd been kicked out of course, but he never brought it up and she had no intention of letting him know what had happened. So why was she telling this Doctor? He ground to a halt at this point and smiled at her, this one both real and still slightly fake.

"Well, this is me," he announced. Clara's eyebrows shot up as she took in their surroundings. This was K block. Her block. The Doctor lived in her block. But, surely not?

"This is me too…" she trailed off. His mouth formed an 'O' and he nodded understandingly, indicating for her to go in first. Sure enough, as she'd thought, the Doctor followed her down the hall, all the way to the end and they pulled up at the same point, facing each other and turning to their respective doors. "Goodbye Doctor. See you round I guess?"

"Count on it Clara," he smiled. "Count on it."


	2. Chapter 2: A friend

***Hello everyone! Happy Boxing Day! Thanks to everyone who's reading and following and favouriting, please please review because this story means a lot to me. This is a particularly brutal chapter at times, earning its M rating with swearing, some violence and dark, adult topics. But I really wanted to break down Clara's character here, I hope you enjoy it. TPD***

* * *

As she drank, Clara couldn't help but think about the Doctor. He was the elusive fifth kitchen member. She brought it up that evening, as Britney and Josie indulged themselves on peach schnapps and Clara added lemonade to her vodka to avoid looking like an alcoholic. Not that that had slowed her down. The girls had seen him and mentioned how strange he was, eating at odd times, making noises in the night. Clara couldn't help but feel bad for him, despite the words of the girls. Jack popped in briefly to invite them to a party in J block. Clara shrugged her shoulders. If she was lucky, she might score that night. Clara had never treated sex as a numbing device before, but she'd heard good things about it from her friends back home that had lost their virginity and as a result, she was happy to try it. If some random rugby player could make her forget her pain for an evening, then they were a cheaper solution than a bottle of vodka. Clara realised what she had just thought and shuddered. What was she becoming?

The party was in full swing. Clara grinned to herself as she swigged from a bottle of Jack Daniels someone had thrown into her hand. She normally had a ridiculous tolerance to alcohol for someone her size, but whiskey burned her throat and ripped apart her stomach, weakening her resolve and improving her mood. She had found herself separated from Britney and Josie, but she didn't mind too much. A handsome guy called Harold was eyeing her up and down and the more she drank whiskey, the less ill the thought of him inside her made her feel. As he approached her, she felt her confidence rise with another swig of JD and she winked at him. He kissed her strongly and she could taste the beer on his breath. She wanted to wretch, but the kiss was good and his hands were starting to roam, which made her feel fulfilled. At least, she thought that's what it was. As he picked her up, Clara suddenly felt very small, his hands scooped around her small frame. He was a local J-blocker so carried her to his bedroom. Clara felt the need to be sick and he thrust her down upon the bed.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I want to be sick."

He sneered at her as she tried to push him off and shook his head.

"I'm the Master here," he informed her. "I run J block. You're in my room. I own you. You can be sick when I say you can be sick."

Clara wanted to scream, to cry for help but her voice failed her, the whiskey taking its toll. She leaned over and wretched and the Master realised his mistake and threw her off the bed, desperate not to let his sheets get stained. She stumbled, barely able to stand and staggered to the bin. She vomited and he pulled a face. She felt empty, in every sense of the word and he grabbed her, pulling her back by her hair. Clara yelled and he laughed evilly. She pushed at him but he was strong. He went to pull her onto the bed so she did the only thing she could think of. She bit him. She bit his arm and he flailed, letting go for an instant. She slapped him and kicked out, striking his groin. Still staggering, Clara fumbled for balance until the Master slapped her back and she tumbled backwards, falling through the open window behind her and landing with a crunch in the mud. She felt a splitting pain in her head and her vision was blurred more than before. She wretched again, managing to roll over to vomit in the mud. The Master's head appeared above her, but as he was about to climb out the window after her, she heard a shout and his eyes narrowed before he vanished back inside, slamming the window behind him. She heard a voice, calling her name. And then she blacked out.

* * *

Clara awoke with a pounding headache. She was in a room she didn't recognise, but it was warm and friendly. The walls were the same white as any other accommodation but there were posters of various science things splattered across it. The duvet covering her was a deep blue, deeper than she'd ever seen. As she took in her surroundings, there was a figure perched on a chair beside her. His face snapped into focus and she'd never seen someone look at her with so much care in their eyes since…that night. The night her dad came home and said the words that shattered her world.

"Doctor?" she asked him as she tried to sit up. "What happened?"

"I was out running," he explained, smiling wearily. He looked as though he hadn't slept and the crushing realisation hit Clara that he hadn't. He'd been sat in that chair all night, probably watching her the entire time. Under different circumstances, she'd be freaked out. "I like to do that sometimes, at night. Run. The world is a different place when it's dark and it helps me to focus. To think. To consider some angle I've not noticed. Sorry," he smiled awkwardly. "Rambling. But I saw a commotion in a window outside J-block. And I saw you fall out of a window. Pretty nasty fall. I ran over and some jerk was about to climb out the window after you. So I told him to fuck off." The intensity in his voice shocked Clara. "I scooped you up and I carried you home. I mean to K-block. I couldn't find your keys," he was blushing, Clara realised. Trying to justify himself. "So I just brought you here."

"I keep my key in my phone case," she explained. "In my bra…" she trailed off, blushing and giggling at his awkward reaction. He laughed too, he couldn't seem to help it and Clara immediately felt better. "Thank you Doctor," she whispered. "I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't found me. Ow," she moaned, rubbing the back of her head and glancing at her hand to see if she was bleeding. She wasn't, but her arms and legs were covered in a thick layer of dirt and mud. "Sorry for making a mess of your bed," she apologised. "You shouldn't need to clean up after drunken me."

"I don't mind," he reassured her. "And you don't need to thank me; I just did what anyone would do." He sounded like **_her_** in that moment and it hurt Clara more than the hangover, or the blow to the head ever could. "You can borrow my shower if you want," he indicated then corrected himself quickly. "I mean obviously you don't need to. Because you have your shower. I'm being stupid, ignore me."

"Thanks for the offer," she smiled. "And you saved me. I won't forget that. Let me pay you back. I mean not that I could but…" Damn, now she was the one struggling for words. "Let me make you breakfast?" she implored him and the Doctor did his grin that he did.

"If you insist Clara," he smiled. "But not today. You've been through an ordeal, let me."

* * *

As the Doctor fried bacon, Clara found herself drifting into comfortable conversation with him. She hadn't realised it was possible, but she was smiling. A lot. And, for once, it wasn't a façade. He seemed awkward at first, but she realised that the more they spoke, the more confident he was. Britney and Josie popped in at one point and they both apologised to Clara for the night before, asking what had happened to her after she disappeared with the Master. Clara told them that she got out, but the bruise on her face earned her looks of sympathy. Both the girls were more than a little awkward towards her. Clara had scraped the mud out of her hair and off her body; the hot water had made her feel a million times better and there had been a glass of water and the smell of eggs and bacon waiting for her in the kitchen when she entered, hair still damp and wearing nothing more than her underwear and onesie. But he still smiled at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. And she loved that. He didn't know her, not really, but he still treated her properly. Despite her insistence that he had already done enough for her, he cooked breakfast and then they retreated to her room to eat, hoping to avoid Jack, who must've known the events that had occurred the night before. Or worse, the Master's version of events.

"You're an amazing cook," Clara informed the Doctor, as she gobbled up his scrambled eggs. "Who taught you?"

"Nobody," he admitted. "I've always been very good at taking care of myself."

Another pointed remark and this time, Clara indulged her insatiable desire to know more about the Doctor. "So where are you from?" she asked him, with a smile.

"I have no idea," he admitted, another rueful grin, slightly less fake than the other times they'd talked about his past. "I grew up in London, in an orphanage. I was three when they found me wandering the streets. I loathed every second of it," he informed her, stabbing his bacon viciously, the grin gone. "But I made my escape when I was 10, found my way back to my parents' house. Well, it was my house, but I will always think of it as theirs. Chilled there, managed to lie to the government about who was looking after me to keep them off my backs until I was old enough to come here."

Clara's jaw had hit the floor. The casual way he kept eating should've bugged her, but she found it part of his endearment. He had opened up to her, and she knew she should do the same, but he'd look at her differently. Would he? She looked into the Doctor's eyes. He wouldn't.

"So your therapist?" she probed a little further, putting the question of her own past on the backburner. "Was she at the orphanage?" he nodded. "So you just looked after yourself? All that time? No friends, no school, no guardian?"

"No," he replied, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "My parents never named me; they died before they had the chance to. I know my surname is Smith, but that's it. Nobody at the orphanage cared enough, they just called me Doctor. I've never had anyone."

"I'm sorry," Clara breathed. She wasn't the only person hurting.

"Don't be," he smiled. "I've never needed anyone before and I doubt I ever will. Clara, my life before university may not have been perfect but I made do."

"Don't we all," she smiled despite herself, digging into her bacon again.

"So, what's your story?" the Doctor asked. "You're from the North, I can tell from your accent. But where exactly?"

"Blackpool," she smiled at the thought of it. "I loved it up there. Me, my dad, my…" she stopped abruptly. "My mum," she finished, quickly trying to seal the damage. Don't let the façade drop, she sternly told herself. Her plate was empty. She smiled warmly at the Doctor, who was watching her intently, as if weighing up something in his head. "Thanks for breakfast Doctor, but I have a lecture to get to in like half an hour. I'll definitely make you some tomorrow, or whenever." She hurriedly started packing her bag, as he went to grab her plate. "No!" she snapped and he withdrew confused. "I'll do it," she implored him. "Thanks for last night and everything. But I can take care of myself." She didn't know where this attitude had come from. But the Doctor made her feel open and she didn't want to ruin all the good work she'd done building up her façade.

"Clara," his voice sounded hurt and she spun to face him. "I just wanted to say, before I go. I've never had a friend before. But I'd like one."

* * *

Clara felt awful. She was sat in her room alone, ploughing through a bottle of wine. She'd brushed the Doctor off after everything he'd done for her. He'd been unbelievably kind towards her and they clearly got along after only a few meetings. They'd talked a lot and she knew a lot about his past, more than she suspected he'd told anyone in a long time. But here she was, being selfish and shoving him off. Because he was getting close to breaking her resolve. She would not talk about her mum. She wouldn't let anyone in, just to lose them the way she'd lost her mum. Clara guzzled the wine, desperate to let the pain stop. The Doctor was in her thoughts, almost as much as her mum. She didn't know what was worse, the fact that she was finally thinking about something else, or the fact that that thought was like poison. But a slow burner, not the fierce, red hot sting that entered her brain when her mum smiled at her or locked hands with Clara in her mind. Clara threw the empty bottle against the wall and it shattered. She screamed, covering her scream with her pillow to avoid anyone hearing her pain. She reached into her cupboard for another bottle. Something stronger this time, she reckoned. Sourz. It would do for now. Clara cracked the lid open and swigged, starting to feel her brain clouding over. She was nearly there.

There was a knock at the door. Clara swore and shouted for the person to go away. Whoever they were, they couldn't help her; nobody could help her. All she wanted was oblivion. Ignoring the repeated knocking and what she was sure was the Doctor's voice, Clara let her attention return to the bottle in her hand. It was constant. It would never betray her. The alcohol would always do what alcohol did. And people, people like him. The Doctor. They could lie. And make her feel. And they could make her dependent on them to the point where losing them would leave Clara feeling the way she'd felt every day since her mum had died. Clara knew she was cursed. Knew she was wrong. Clara Oswald was damaged goods. And nobody could fix her. Not even a man who claimed he was a Doctor.

* * *

Clara made her lectures the next day as well, a smile plastered on her face, her hair done up in a tight bun and makeup covering the bruise that had only slightly gone down. Her façade was intact, nobody looked at her twice. She got through the day with the help of aspirin, water and the occasional swig of heaven. Vodka made her empty, but it was better to feel nothing than too much. She would never be whole again, so she might as well not be a part. She didn't see the Doctor that day and felt a lot better for it. That night, she drank with Britney and Josie, but they treated her differently. More carefully. Clara did her best to restore their faith in her; she drank less than normal and felt more. She was willing to make the sacrifice, to repair the cracks that the whiskey and the Master had chipped in her façade. Thursday morning was her philosophy lecture. She had it at ten and decided she ought to bite the bullet. She knew she was going to see the Doctor there and sure enough, he was. But, he didn't sit beside her. He sat at the front, walking right past her and sending a pained smile her way as he passed. She felt terrible but it was no more than she deserved. She was a horrible human being. The Doctor would only hurt both of them by trying to be her friend. The façade creaked but it held firm.

That night, Clara went hard. Too hard and she knew it as well. It wasn't until she crashed into her bedroom that night, vomiting all over the bathroom floor that she realised she needed help. She couldn't go on like this. She lay in the shower for about an hour, sobering up as the hot water gushed around her. As she went to bed that night, she made a decision. She realised something. That the façade was unsustainable. It was easy back home. She could spent 90% of her time at home in her room and once a week she would go out and drink, once a week was enough time to prepare herself and ensure she didn't slip. But here? With people everywhere and the alcohol pumping through her system on a regular basis, she was killing herself. The Doctor had knocked her. The Master had chipped away. The booze was killing her. What remained of the façade melted away as the hot water poured over her.

The next morning, she jumped out of bed, slipped on her onesie, crossed the corridor and knocked on the Doctor's door. He opened it, wearing only suspenders over his shirt, but not his jacket. He seemed torn as he stood there. She smiled warmly at him, a genuine smile, one of her few and he smiled back despite himself.

"How can I help you Clara?" he asked her carefully and she took a deep breath in.

"Doctor," she said. "I promised to make you breakfast. And so I'm going to. Today. Now. And it's going to be the best damned breakfast you've ever eaten. And then, because I have a free day, we're going to go out into the town. And do something, anything I don't care. Because," her voice cracked and he frowned. "Because I can't do this anymore." She threw herself into his arms, unsure as to why she did it but glad that she had. "My mum died a year and a half ago," she confessed. "And since then, I've shut out the world. I turned to drink. But I can't do it anymore. I've had this…façade. It's kept me safe. But it's crumbling around me. I need a friend," she looked at him and he smiled invitingly. "I've not had a friend in a long time. And I really think I'd like to have one."

"Well then Clara," the Doctor smiled. "I feel it's only fair to warn you." She looked at him, with big, slightly teary eyes. "I love pancakes. Pancakes are cool."

So she made him pancakes, he told her they were the best he'd ever eaten and that was how the Doctor became Clara's friend.


	3. Chapter 3: Halloween

*** Hey troops, here's chapter 3 for you! As the title suggests, there's some Halloween involved but mainly it's a bit of a filler chapter, seeing how the Doctor and Clara's friendship is developing. But there's also a few hints to ongoing storylines near the end. Thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and followed and please keep going, it means the world to me. Also, tiny bit of shameless self-promotion, check out my other fics, especially Transitions, my long running Whouffle fic set after Day of the Doctor. Enjoy! TPD***

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They quickly settled into a routine, the Doctor and Clara. He made breakfast for the both of them on Mondays, before their philosophy lecture. She would return the favour on Thursdays. As she had Fridays free and the Doctor seemed determined with his 'no lectures' mantra, they ate out for breakfast that day. They occasionally went out into town to do things, but they spent a lot of their free time in each other's rooms, just chatting. Clara was drinking less, allowing herself alcohol only when they were being social and whenever she felt the need to drink, she steadfastly refused any and instead talked to the Doctor. They were quickly becoming close, closer than either of them had been in a long time. But they were also integrating each other into life outside the other. Clara introduced the Doctor to Josie and Britney and some of her friends from English. He introduced her to his cousin, David, known affectionately as Ten. He was also somewhat parentless as his father was dead and his mother lived in Australia. Ten's cheerful attitude and demeanour reminded Clara of the Doctor, but with less of his sadness. He rarely showed it, but when the Doctor was sad, Clara could tell and wanted nothing more than to see him smiling again.

"You know," the Doctor said one Friday in late October. "Halloween is next week. On Monday."

"I did know," Clara replied, rolling her eyes. "What of it Chin-Boy?"

"Well, I was wondering what we were doing?" he asked casually. "Only, you tend to be the one who organises this sort of thing. I assumed there was a party on or…"

Clara giggled. The Doctor wasn't a massive drinker but she always found him hilarious when he was drunk. One time, he'd tried to drag her into singing a duet with him on a table and when she refused, he tried to do it single-handedly.

"The girls and Jack are going to a party," she informed him. "But it's in J-Block and I have no intention of going there again. Not after last time…"

The Doctor's face hardened at this and he stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. He leaned forwards, staring into Clara's soul through the medium of her eyes and she shook herself, allowing herself not to get lost in the sadness that permeated his.

"You don't have to be scared of him," the Doctor told her. "Harold Saxon is not a man who has any power over you. And as long as you show him that, he will never be able to scare you or hurt you. Besides, I'll be there."

Clara smiled at his speech, touched by his confidence. She raised an eyebrow teasingly though, refusing to let the Doctor get off that easily.

"You don't call him the Master," she said. "Why is that? Most people don't call him Harold Saxon; they all call him the Master."

"I'm not most people," the Doctor chuckled. "And I call him Harold Saxon because the Master is what he wants to be called. He wants to have control over people. He wants to rule the roost, to be the King of his own little empire. And by calling him the Master, by acknowledging that he has power, people make themselves subservient to him. But I refuse. I refuse to let anyone have power over me." He paused and allowed himself a smile as he glanced at Clara. "Well almost anyone."

Clara had a funny feeling he was referring to her with that 'almost' and she didn't like it but she let it slide. She'd realised that the Doctor would occasionally say strange things he didn't mean to say out loud. His brain was moving so fast that he'd say what he was thinking and immediately regret saying it, knowing it was something best left in his head. She'd gotten into the habit of pretending that she'd never heard these private thoughts of his and she was sure he appreciated it. The Doctor was very open with her, but she sensed there were things he wasn't going to tell her. And that was alright, they'd only just become friends after all. Since the day they became friends, Clara hadn't spoken much about her mum. He didn't ask and she was very grateful for that.

"Even so," Clara mused. "I'm not sure it's the best idea. Surely standing up to someone who everyone calls their Master is a bad idea; it can turn a lot of people against us very quickly. I mean, they clearly look up to him, follow him."

"They're scared of him," the Doctor corrected her and Clara bit her lip. She could understand why. "And if you don't want to go, then we'll stay here and chill, if that's what you would prefer?"

"Nah," Clara smiled at him weakly. "We are invited to the party after all and I've been desperate for an excuse to pull the cat costume out. If that's how your eyes bulge when I mention it," she added with a giggle. "I can't wait to see the look on your face when you see me wearing it. Oh relax Doctor, it's not that revealing." He had gone a brilliant shade of crimson. Any mention of anything sexual seemingly turned him into a mumbling wreck of embarrassment. He'd got better, but that was only through Clara's relentless teasing. She loved flirting with the Doctor, but only because he was so thrown by it. His entire demeanour threw Clara, it only seemed fair to return the favour on occasion. "What are you going to dress up as?" she probed, finishing her omelette and raising her hand to get the waiter over.

"Oh you'll love it," he grinned. "This one's on me, you paid last week."

Clara went to protest that he had in fact paid the previous week but it was too late and he'd already slipped the waiter a twenty pound note. Clara knew what he was doing and why he was doing it. The Doctor had a house that he didn't want or need and it was obvious he had money. He felt bad that he had more money than Clara and he thought that paying for things would make it better. It annoyed her, but if it made him happy then she was willing to let him do it occasionally.

"So, back to halls?" Clara asked, standing as the Doctor pulled out her chair and wrapped her coat around her. Another habit he'd gotten into. For a man who was supremely awkward in the majority of social situations, he was quite the gentleman. And that was what struck Clara the most about this eccentric physicist. He was unfailingly kind and seemed surprised when Clara called him out on it. It was as if he failed to appreciate the fact that most people weren't as kind as him. It was even stranger, considering his childhood. It should have made him question the whole concept of being kind, but instead it reinforced it.

"Nope, I've got some stuff to pick up," the Doctor grinned. "I'd invite you to join but it's a secret. And a surprise. Well two separate things. One's a secret, the other's a surprise. You'll understand both in due time, I promise." Clara rolled her eyes. He was so melodramatic. "I'll see you later; we're still on to watch a DVD later?"

"Finding Nemo," Clara confirmed. "While you're out, could you buy some tape? I'm going to have to tape your mouth shut unless you can actually stop talking for two hours. You completely ruined Shutter Island. I don't believe for a second you've not seen it before then. That twist was anything but easy to guess."

"Fine, I'll behave," he sulked. "Don't start without me; I'm a sucker for a Disney film."

"Who isn't?" Clara replied, flicking her hair as she waved him goodbye and he saluted back at her. She loved the way he saluted, especially when people around them gave him odd looks for it. Most people waved or nodded or hugged. The Doctor saluted. It was just one of the things that made him different.

As she arrived back, Clara settled down in her room to do some work. She was supposed to be reading Macbeth, but she'd been there and done that, so she instead she emailed one of her old teachers, asking him if he could send her some of his annotations on the book. Her English teacher at school, Mr Fryers had been her favourite and one of the reasons that she'd chosen to do English. He spent a lot of time correcting commentators or interpretations of Shakespeare and Clara loved that although he taught them the syllabus, he also disagreed with it heartily and wasn't afraid to tell his students that. Now that Clara was at uni, she was definitely going to make use of that. He had always been more than happy to expel his theories on her in the past and they'd occasionally met up for coffee to discuss literature in the past. Books and plays were a world all in their own, where Clara could throw her own life on the back burner and try to explore the minds of other people whose lives were falling apart as they poured their souls onto the pages.

Sure enough, Mr Fryers responded positively and she spent her afternoon reading through his critical analysis of Macbeth, silently telling herself that using his own ideas as hers was plagiarising and she'd just have to find a way to express the thoughts he ignited in her without using his own words. As she contemplated one of Mr Fryers more controversial suggestions, a clattering and fumbling of keys from outside her door told her that the Doctor had returned. She rolled off her bed, stretching her aching body from sitting down for too long and then headed to the kitchen, smiling to herself as she stuck the kettle on. She heard more crashing and stumbling and held out the blue mug as the kitchen door opened.

"No milk, two sugars, just the way you like it," she informed him as the cup was plied from her grasp and a tweed-encased arm came to rest beside her. Their eyes locked for a moment and then Clara wheeled round to put the milk back in the fridge.

"Thanks, appreciate it. I take it you heard me arrive back?" he was grinning sheepishly and she rolled her eyes as she shut the fridge.

"I imagine J-block heard you arrive back," she retorted, crossing the kitchen so she was leaning against the counter next to him. "You made the noise equivalent of a small rhinoceros. So when I do I get to find out this surprise or secret or whatever?"

"All in good time Clara, be patient," he chuckled. "If you must know, the surprise is my Halloween costume. There, that ought to keep you ticking over until next week. The secret, is of course, still a secret. I just need to work out some…" he paused dramatically. "Kinks. In the system."

"Kinks?" Clara asked, raising an eyebrow but opting not to pursue that train of thought. He was a physicist and he often went into his little own physics world. He was there now, she could see it on his face. Sometimes, he'd wake her up in the middle of the night by accidently shouting out words she didn't understand. And she'd groan, smile despite herself, roll over and go back to sleep. "Doctor!" she called him back to reality and his eyes snapped back into focus, turning to her. "You zoned out again."

"Did I?" he shrugged. "Sorry, thanks for bringing me back. Have you had dinner yet? I'm starving, I think. Fancy ordering in pizza? It's been a while since we have and I'm dying for a meat feast."

"As long as you don't pay for the whole thing," Clara replied, quick as a whip. "I've not eaten either and pizza sounds great, but I can't let you pay for everything. Now, I'll order, you pop off and set up the DVD."

The Doctor grumbled but obeyed, Clara grinning to herself as she called the local pizza company. Clara loved cheese and ordered the special five cheese pizza, remembering that the Doctor would want extra anchovies on his meat feast. The guy told her forty-five minutes and she returned to her room to change into her onesie. The Doctor was waiting for her as she knocked on his door. He'd set up his television and hooked his laptop up to it. It had surprised her to learn that the Doctor had a TV, though she wasn't sure why, it made sense. A lot of people had TVs and he was not short of money. He patted the spot next to him on the bed and she plonked herself down beside him, informing him they had just over half an hour until pizza. He nodded his appreciation and then stuck the film on. Clara loved Finding Nemo and the Doctor even stuck to his agreement to not ruin it by talking over it. She felt unavoidably comfortable around him and when she shivered and he offered her his blanket, she didn't hesitate in accepting. They wrapped themselves up snugly and it was only when the pizza man called that Clara realised the proximity between them. They were almost shoulder to shoulder, backs against the wall, sharing a blanket. The Doctor was oblivious, of course but when Clara came back with the pizza, she shifted a bit, so they were further apart as they ate.

After the film finished, Clara felt a wave of tiredness wash over her and she felt bad for leaving the Doctor. He slept so little that she'd often stay up with him, but tonight she was really feeling drained. She wasn't even sure why, it had probably just been a long week. They were out the following night, so she bid him goodnight and slipped off his bed. She could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head and she swivelled to face him.

"What is it?" she asked, trying to sound gentle but it inevitably sounded slightly snappy. The Doctor didn't flinch, he never did. As hard as Clara tried not to be abrasive with him, she still ended up snapping at him for no apparent reason sometimes, a bi-product of all her pent up anger and sadness. She winced at the thought of her mum, who had always put up with her temper tantrums as a child with a modicum of calm and tried not to let the wince reach her face. She still hated being emotional in front of the Doctor, because it wasn't fair to unleash everything on him every time she thought of her mum, which was still more often than she'd like.

"It's nothing," the Doctor smiled. "It's just…the last time I watched that film was only a few months before I escaped the orphanage. I spent the whole film planning my escape route. It's just weird, considering that now I'm watching it and I want the exact opposite. The last watch of that film coincided with one of the lowest ebbs of my life and this watch has been one of the highlights. Thank you Clara."

She smiled and allowed a tear to slip out of her eye. She crossed the room back to him in a heartbeat and hugged him, startled by how tight his grip was. They rarely hugged, because Clara wasn't big on it and he seemed to always let her take the lead. But this was a really nice hug.

"You give great hugs," she informed him and he smirked at this. "I had a lot of fun tonight as well Doctor, thanks. And," she bit her lip. "I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate having you around, as a friend." She detected something in his eyes but she couldn't pick out what. "I've not been able to feel comfortable around people in a long time, so it helps to have someone that I…" she froze here, unsure how to continue, so she just smiled and nodded. "Goodnight Doctor."

"Goodnight Clara."

* * *

Halloween rolled along the following Monday and Clara was excited for it. She'd always loved Halloween as a child and it was good to be able to dress up and drink and have fun properly again. She was determined to enjoy her evening, whatever it took. The Doctor seemed very excited for it but then it was difficult to tell as the Doctor seemed perpetually excited, like a five year high on chocolate. Clara spent a longer time than normal getting ready, because she was enjoying the process. The other girls joined in and they all worked on each other's hair and makeup. Clara was just finishing painting Britney's face pale white as she was a zombie nurse when there was a knock on the bedroom door and she shouted to enter. The Doctor stumbled in and she giggled at his costume. He was Albert Einstein, of course he was. The wig, the lab coat, the glasses. She rolled her eyes and invited him in and it took him a few moments as he was absorbed in her costume.

"Eyes front soldier," she warned him as her lips twitched mockingly. He got a hold of himself and propped himself up on the bed as Britney said thanks and went to do Clara's makeup. Clara was wearing fluffy ears, shorts with a tail attached, an upper part that barely covered her chest region and the highest heels the Doctor had ever seen. Her hair was roughed up, curly and all over the place and Britney was drawing whiskers and a button nose onto her pale face.

"My eyes are always front." The Doctor sounded almost indignant at this and Britney snorted and almost stabbed Clara in the eye with mascara, earning her a glare from the petite brunette.

"Sorry," Britney mumbled as she finished off and Clara twirled as she stood, beaming at the Doctor, who smiled and took her arm as they left the room, him promising to look after her keys as she locked up. Britney was a few steps behind them and told them that she'd be along shortly, as she hammered on Josie's door, shouting for the other girl. Clara realised her arm was still locked around the Doctor's, but she didn't care. Maybe it was the pre-drinks or maybe it was the warmth he radiated, but she was happy.

When they reached J-block, the Doctor gripped her hand tightly, which Clara appreciated. She wasn't sure how she was feeling about the whole thing, but she knew that she'd feel a lot better with a friend by her side. They pushed open the doors to J-block and stepped inside, to a party in full flow. Clara relaxed instantly and grabbed a Jagerbomb, recognising a few people and going over to say hi, dragging the Doctor along behind her. The Doctor snatched a beer up off the side and drank it quickly; disliking the taste it left in his mouth. The room was alive with energy, crackling with it. Clara introduced the Doctor to people whose names instantly evaporated from his mind. Then, Clara's hand tightened on his arm, becoming almost vice-like. Her face was slightly paler than before and her cheeks were tinged with red. The Doctor spotted the source. The Master was in the room.

"Ah Clara Oswald," he purred and the Doctor stepped forward a touch, so he was level with her. Clara was grateful for that. "It's been a while. I suppose I can forgive your earlier…" The Master paused, indicating to the people nearby to fuck off and they did. "Defiance," he whispered. "If you prove yourself worthy of forgiving." His voice was slick as oil. Clara's breath had caught in her throat and the Master realised that the Doctor was still stood there. He turned to him, a look of shock registering on his face. Clara put it down to the fact that someone wasn't scared of him, just like the Doctor said.

"Fuck off," he said, casually, as if he expected this to work. The Doctor didn't budge. "I'll take care of Clara," he oozed. "You're no longer required here. So off you fuck, go and sit in the corner like a good little boy." Still no movement. The Master turned to Clara. "Well this is cute, isn't it Clara? You have a…tag along. Kindly tell it to fuck off. What's its name?"

"I'm the Doctor," the Doctor snarled and the Master seemed to chuckle at this. "And if it's all the same to you, I'm fine where I am. Clara can speak for herself; she doesn't need you to order her around. Saxon."

The way he spat the final word seemed to rock the Master and he stepped back, before his lips curled. He leant forward and the Doctor didn't flinch as the two men squared up. Clara looked between them and shook herself. If the Doctor wasn't scared, then nor was she.

"Doctor, let's go and dance," Clara smiled brightly, pushing past the Master and dragging the Doctor with her. His eyes locked with the Master's and Clara inhaled, hopeful that nothing would come of it. When she pulled the Doctor in close to her, the bitterness and anger evaporated from his eyes and he smiled affectionately at her. Clara had known how terrible he was at dancing, but it relaxed her to be able to laugh at the Doctor's terrible attempts to jive for a few minutes before she dragged him to a table, where half a dozen people were playing Ring of Fire. They looked up at Clara and the Doctor but nobody said anything as they joined in. The girl sat on the other side of the Doctor looked at him with something akin to awe. She was a short thing, with a shock of blonde curls and a nice smile.

"You stood up to Saxon," she whispered, looking around as if to check that he wasn't about to pop over and choose her to be his girl for the night. "That was amazing."

"That, was nothing," the Doctor insisted. "His kind are nothing more than pathetic bullies and the only way to fight a bully is to show you're not afraid of it. Eight, Clara Oswald, is mate. You drink when I drink." He nudged her and Clara mock groaned as she slugged from her drink. The other girl had her arm on the Doctor now and he eyed it suspiciously.

"Maisie!" a girl shouted. "Come on, we're heading off!"

Maisie appeared to be the girl who was touching the Doctor and she shot him an apologetic look and placed a long kiss on his lips before scuttling off. The Doctor looked completely fazed by this, flailing for a moment that made Clara giggle.

"It's your turn Clara," someone reminded her, and Clara stopped watching the blonde girl. She didn't know what she felt about the girl kissing the Doctor but it was something akin to pity. Clara reached out and grabbed a card, all thoughts of Maisie forgotten as she was forced to down what was left of her drink.


	4. Chapter 4: Tales of Therapy

***Hello Stonehenge! Another day, another chapter, which I really hope you guys enjoy. This one is another chapter based on Clara letting the Doctor in and another development for them. As ever, please review, follow and favourite and please check out my other fics. Thanks to everyone who already has and will. TPD***

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A couple of days later, Clara was making herself breakfast, only to have the Doctor join her, a smile on his face and a satchel over his shoulder. He set it down as he rummaged in the cupboards for his bread, which he slipped into the toaster. He settled opposite Clara, who had to admit she was surprised by how alert and functioning he was.

"You're in a good mood," she chirped after a minute or so and he shrugged, leaping to his feet as the toaster pinged at him. "Listen, I've got lectures for a couple of hours but I was thinking, if you fancied it the coffee shop is having a special tea hour, loads of different teas from across the globe between 1 and 2pm. You interested?"

"I'd love to," he said wistfully. "But I can't."

"Oh," Clara's face fell disappointedly. "How come?"

"I'm going to my lectures today," the Doctor explained and Clara nearly choked on her cereal. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn't that. The Doctor hurried over to make sure that she was alright and she waved him off, indicating that she was fine. "Sorry, I should've waited until you weren't eating. But yes, I'm going. I decided I needed to check something."

"Oh okay," Clara raised an eyebrow. "Something?"

"You wouldn't understand," the Doctor assured her. "Not because you're stupid or anything," he added quickly. "But it would take a lot of background explaining and even then, the laws of Quantum Physics do tend to go out the window, I'm pretty sure the majority of the people in my class wouldn't get it. Some of the professors would struggle," he added with a chuckle. "I mean, even if I could explain it you, it's still a secret."

"Okay," Clara shovelled back into her cereal. "I'm fairly sure I followed all of that. Got anything planned for the evening?"

"Ten invited me to his place," he replied, biting his lip. "You're welcome to join us if you want?"

"Nah, you guys are way too sciencey and intense for me," Clara teased. "Have fun, I'm sure I'll find some way to entertain myself."

She didn't know why it bothered her that the Doctor was doing his own thing, but what Clara did know was that she felt bad that evening. She'd had a call from her dad, saying that he'd sold some of her mum's old jewellery that Clara had said she didn't want to wear. Clara had screamed at him, and he genuinely hadn't understood why she was upset, so Clara had put on a brave face and lied and said she was just feeling emotional because of woman problems. Her dad had stumbled out of that conversation but she was angry. She knew she had no right to be angry, she'd told her dad she couldn't bring herself to wear the extra jewellery and her dad hadn't sold anything he knew was important to her or her mum. But it was a little thing and he'd not even talked to her. It just hurt that another small piece of her mum had slipped away. She kept glancing across the hall, through her open bedroom door, just hoping that he came back. Then, she snapped and snatched up a bottle of wine, locking her door and downing the bottle. Clara felt wretched but was determined not to let the Doctor see her lose her cool. She'd been so strong for so long, that slipping back into old habits made her ashamed. She buried her head into her pillow and tried to forget that whole night had ever happened.

She felt equally shit the next day and he spotted it instantly. It was her morning to make breakfast, but he'd taken one look at her as she staggered out of her room in her onesie, eyes bloodshot and face pale and he'd sent her back to bed, knocking on her door twenty minutes later with a bacon sarnie and a glass of water with ibuprofen.

"Do you want to talk?" he asked quietly. "I know you're not usually big on the whole talking about your feelings thing and I like that about you. You don't let just anyone in and that makes you special. But you look like you had a rough night and I don't want to see you, my friend, in pain. So I'm here if you need me. Well, I suppose I kind of have to be, I'm just across the hall you see, unless I was deliberately running away from you, which I'd never do. Oh hell, I'm rambling again."

"I love it when you ramble," Clara smiled weakly. "It's cute. Doctor, I know I may seem to you like an emotionally closed off wreck, but that's what's worked for me for so long. I want to be more open," she admitted. "And having you around makes me feel like I have someone for the first time since…" she still couldn't bring herself to say it. "But yeah, I had a rough night. But if I sob on you every time I feel shit, how can I grow as a person?"

"Clara," he smiled. "It's okay to need someone to talk to. That doesn't make you weak, or dependent. It makes you human. And there are going to be times when I need you, as difficult as that might be to believe. You've suffered a lot, having a friend isn't going to hinder your recovery."

"My therapist was a bitch," Clara said at this point, sitting up and throwing her duvet off her and he shot her a confused look. "Remember, you told me your therapist gave up on you because of your rambling? Mine couldn't handle my hostility. I don't regret being horrible towards her. She was a bitch to me. She didn't seem to understand that I was a sixteen year old, lost and alone and in pain. I know I shouldn't have lashed out but…" Clara took a deep breath. "I was angry, Doctor. And every week, my dad would just drop me off in some house and I'd be forced to sit in a room and then explain how I was feeling. I didn't want that. I didn't want to be reminded of the loss; I just wanted to forget it. She kept saying my mum's name like she knew her, like they were friends," Clara spat.

"She kept telling me I had to accept my mum was gone or I'd end up alone. She was right, of course, but that wasn't the point!" Clara's anger was bubbling over. "It was two weeks after her death and I was being told to move the fuck on. And dad would never say anything. He knew exactly what was going on in those sessions, how she kept pushing me to tell her how I was going to move on. Some step plan, I'd say: 'My mum is dead', everyday like that would help. But it didn't help. It made me angry and upset. Some mornings, I'd wake up, having forgot that I was alone and then I'd be forced to remind myself. She always shot me down when I got angry. She said if I was going to snap, she wasn't going to listen. So that just made me angrier. I started smashing things, at which point she called security to hold me down!" Clara was screaming now. "I was sixteen, I'd just lost my mum and I wasn't allowed to show any emotion, or that was failing to stick to the plan. And the worst part is, my dad couldn't even look me in the eye. Because I reminded him of her. He wouldn't speak to me, he couldn't speak to me, so he ferried me off to some stupid, emotionless robot to try and turn me into some stupid emotionless robot. Eventually, I cracked and took out three of her teeth. My dad had to pay her not to press charges," Clara growled. "I know anger was never the answer but I was a kid. A messed up kid and I needed help not…"

"Clara," the Doctor's voice was tender and his arm had snaked around her at some point. She was shaking, but he was rubbing her shoulder gently and telling her to breathe. He kissed her forehead and Clara felt herself flush but she instantly felt a lot more in control. "It'll be okay. You've been angry for a long time. But you need to let go of your anger, or it'll destroy you. Don't let the anger and the alcohol detract you from what's important."

"And what is important?" Clara asked. There was no bitterness or anger in her voice now, just a plea. She needed the Doctor; she needed someone to tell her what the point was, why she couldn't give up. But she needed to work that out herself.

"You know," he pressed a finger just below her collar and she felt a shiver run down her spine. "In here, you know."

Clara hugged him, letting his arms rub in calming circles against her back and letting her head absorb the smell of him. "My dad sold some of my mum's old jewellery, that's why I was so upset last night. He doesn't understand."

"It seems like you need to talk to your father," the Doctor told her and she winced at the very idea of it, slipping slightly out of the Doctor's grasp. "Seriously Clara, you keep avoiding confronting him but it's him you're angry at. He's the one who put you in therapy, he's the one who you blame for the way you feel."

"Because I needed him," Clara whispered. "He loves me and he did his best to help me, but he couldn't. It's not his fault. He just doesn't know what to do."

"Then help him," the Doctor smiled. "Tell him what you need from him."

"What really happened with your therapist?" Clara asked bluntly and he surprised her once again. He smiled. "I'm sorry, I mean, you were lying. I can always tell when people are lying about things and you lied when you said it was because of rambling."

"Of course it wasn't rambling," he chuckled. "I just didn't know how to tell you the truth. My therapist gave up on me because after two years of therapy, the only thing she ever got out of me was what I wanted for lunch that day. That was it. I'd spend an hour, sat in a room with a woman probing my every word, my every thought for some clue as to what was wrong with me and all she could get out of me was that I was in the mood for a burger. It drove her mad!"

He was laughing and Clara laughed with him now. The whole situation was so bizarre and so absurd that she couldn't help herself. They sat there, giggling for what seemed like an eternity and before Clara knew it, her bacon had gone cold and the Doctor was curled up beside her on her bed. And they talked. Like they had never talked before. It was as if the floodgates had opened. Clara talked about her mum and the Doctor talked about the orphanage. How hard he worked to get out. He also mentioned a bully, who had terrorised him when he was growing up. But, the Doctor insisted, he'd had the last laugh. As for Clara, she told him about Blackpool and growing up there. What it had been like, what it had meant to her. Before they knew it, it was well past noon and any hopes of making it to lectures that day had passed. But neither of them cared. Because it was the first time in a long time that either of them had really been able to share.

* * *

Clara was never normally worried when the Doctor was late. It was Friday morning and they were supposed to be going out for breakfast, but he wasn't answering his door. It made sense; he'd obviously been out for a late night run the previous night and had probably fallen asleep eventually. Despite his insistence of the opposite, he did have to sleep, just less than most people. Clara sighed and knocked again. She heard a wheezing from inside, like a man in pain and she frowned.

"Clara," she heard a throaty voice say. "Please, leave me alone."

"Doctor?" she said, his voice making her increasingly anxious. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he insisted, although he sounded like he was talking through gritted teeth. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me; I'll be up in a bit!" He chose this moment to yell in pain and Clara let out a squeak of worry.

"Let me in, or I'll kick down this door!" she said, more forceful than she felt and she heard a sigh, a gasp of pain and then the door clicked open. She gently opened the door, worried she might hit him with it and gasped as she saw him. He was beaten black and blue. His right arm was in a makeshift sling and his legs were covered in great red welts. She didn't know much about facial injuries but his cheeks were bashed in and he had one hell of a black eye. He was limping. "What the hell happened to you Doctor?" she rushed over to his side and helped him lie back in bed. "Who did this to you?"

"Nobody did anything to me, nothing happened Clara, I'm fine."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" she glared at him and he wilted under her gaze.

"Okay, so maybe there was a tiny misunderstanding. I misunderstood that three of them versus one of me wasn't good odds and I also misunderstood that flailing doesn't tend to stop a beating. I'm good at taking beatings, but this was…particularly brutal. Let's just say when the Master wants to send a message, he sends it loud and clear." Clara's hand reached her mouth. "This has nothing to do with you," he added firmly as Clara put her hand on his arm tenderly, careful of his bruises. "Before you say anything. That day when I went to my lecture, Saxon overheard me talking to my lecturer. Turns out, he's a physicist and he's very interested in my work. But don't worry, I didn't tell them anything. They might've beaten me up but they couldn't get me to spill my secret."

"What secret?" Clara urged, rubbing his arm gently. "What are you working on?"

He shot her a despairing look. "Honestly Clara? I've just been kicked to shit and you want me to tell you the information that got me kicked to shit? I might as well put a giant target on your back and say: 'Oh by the way, if you fancy kicking anyone else, queue up for Clara Oswald!' No, I wouldn't tell you even if I could. I won't have you getting hurt on my behalf."

"How noble," Clara teased. "But if you think I'm going to take this lying down, you're wrong. I'm going to kick the shit out of that little bastard."

"Don't!" the Doctor implored her, his voice with a new level of urgency. "Clara, he is dangerous. And I can't have you getting in the middle of this, getting hurt. I don't need to hurt him. If he doesn't discover my secret, then I win by default. I've nearly finished the prototype and then I have him. He loses. Don't you see? The only way to punish men like Saxon is to beat them at their own game."

"Doctor," Clara bit her lip and kissed his cheek gently. "Okay, okay, I won't do anything. But let's get you cleaned up. I have some smelling salts and stuff in my room. I'll go grab it and pour you a nice, relaxing bath, which should make you feel a lot better."

"You're going to pour me a bath?!" the Doctor seemed almost incredulous.

"Down boy," Clara winked and he fell into flustered mode again, the way he always did when she flirted. "I'm not going to help you into it or anything. Though if you need a hand with that shirt, I'm sure I could stretch myself that far. You're on your own with the lower half though," she giggled and he went bright crimson as she laughed, leaving him as she crossed the hall to delve into her bath cupboard and pick out her best dissolving bruise healers. She was gone for maybe a minute and didn't even bother to knock as she entered, aiming straight for his bathroom but stopping as he sent her into fits of laughter with his attempts to get his shirt over his head.

"For the love of…Clara help me?!" he groaned pitifully and she left him stewing for a few seconds before obliging. She went over, throwing her bath stuff on his table before guiding the shirt over his head, running her hands over his toned body for a few seconds longer than she should and she shook herself, smiling at him as she threw the t-shirt onto his bed. He grinned, both grateful and embarrassed and he pointed towards the bathroom as Clara gathered up her supplies and flipped the hot water on, before leaving him to it.

Back in her room, Clara let out a breath that she hadn't even realised that she'd been holding. She shivered despite the fact that it wasn't cold. The Doctor, he was very strong, she realised, and he had a good body. He'd clearly been beaten raw but it hadn't affected him at all. Clara worried about him though. The Master was not a man to be trifled with. If the Doctor didn't realise that, then he might be in over his head. Clara bit her lip. She had to make him see sense, before he got himself hurt. Or worse.


	5. Chapter 5: Puppy Love

***Hey peeps, I hope you're all enjoying the story so far, because that's what's important and I hope you enjoy this next chapter. It's the 23rd November, so you all know what that means! Also, I wanted to mix things up a bit, so we're getting quite a bit of the Doctor's view in this chapter. Thanks for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting and please continue to do so. TPD***

* * *

Clara rolled out of bed, cursing as she hit the floor and banged her elbow painfully against her chest of drawers. She'd decided not to go out the previous night, as this was one Saturday where she didn't want to wake up hungover. She smiled to herself at the thought of the day and glanced at her clock, to see it was nearly 11. At least she got a proper lie in. Someone was knocking on her door frantically and she rolled her eyes. She didn't stop to consider the fact that eye rolling wasn't an appropriate reaction to someone being desperate to get into her room but then she knew exactly what gleeful man-child would be before her when she unlocked her door. She didn't bother to snatch up her onesie, her jumper and shorts covered her perfectly adequately, she just stepped over and unlocked it. At the sound of the lock clicking, the door flew open and the Doctor stood on her doorstep, grinning. He wasn't wearing his jacket, just a shirt and trousers, held up by suspenders. He'd accumulated himself a rather large tray and invited himself in, plonking the tray down on Clara's bed and eyeing one of Clara's pink bras with more than a slight air of apprehension and suspicion.

"Do you leave those out on purpose to make me feel uncomfortable?" he asked, grabbing a pencil off Clara's desk and flicking at the bra with it.

"Of course not!" Clara lied, supressing a giggle. "What's this?" She indicated to the tray, though it was fairly obvious what it was.

"Breakfast in bed!" the Doctor replied cheerfully, swivelling and pulling her into a fierce hug that she responded to tentatively, not all of his wounds from his beating a few weeks previous had fully healed. He kissed her forehead and smiled warmly at her, their eyes locking. "Happy Birthday Clara Oswald."

The moment of intimacy had thrown Clara for a moment, but the words echoed in her head and she connected them together. She beamed and plonked herself onto the bed, glancing over the tray. There were pancakes, omelettes, two bacon sandwiches, toast, cereal, milk, juice and tea. Clara's eyes bulged at the sight of it all. She gaped at the Doctor who shrugged, dispatching a pancake with ease and downing a glass of apple juice, before propping himself on the end of her bed.

"I was hungry," he admitted. "I've been up all night working and I didn't get a chance to eat. Went a bit overboard. Dig in Miss Oswald, it's not going to eat itself now is it?"

"Thank you so much Doctor!" Clara delved into the bacon sandwich, shovelling it in as he watched her with a wicked grin on his face and a twinkle in his big, sad eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she mumbled, swallowing and grabbing her tea mug.

"No reason," he smiled. "Take as long as you need, I've allotted plenty of time in the schedule."

Clara almost choked on the pancake she'd started. Schedule? Jesus he was taking this whole thing seriously. Another first, someone actually appreciating her birthday and dedicating themselves to it. Clara found herself blushing and buried her head into her omelette, hoping that he wouldn't spot her reaction. He was still smiling at her blankly, oblivious to her thoughts. She found that so endearing. She didn't understand how people could find the Doctor weird; to her he was cute as a button, an adorably simple creature.

"So, aren't you going to ask what's on the schedule?" he asked, bouncing like Tigger and beaming adorably until she shoved a slice of toast into his gob. Clara's lips twitched upwards and she decided to give him the satisfaction of taking the bait."

"Okay, what's on the schedule?"

"I can't tell you, it's a surprise!"

Clara let out a snort of laughter that she'd been trying to resist, determined not to give him the satisfaction but failing miserably. She pulled a face and he looked smug. Clara managed not to roll her eyes and took another sip of tea. Breakfast was hilarious, as the Doctor bounced off all the walls and Clara stuffed her face with his incredible cooking. One of the benefits of having to do things for yourself was that you got good at them, she supposed. When she was finished, he took away the tray and told her to be ready to go in ten minutes. He didn't say where, only dress warmly. Clara grabbed her red scarf and big red coat on top of her long dress and he was waiting for her outside. His face lit up when he saw her and Clara had the realisation that that happened a lot, more than she'd realised. What she was yet to realise, was that her own face was doing something similar. He held out his arm and she giggled as they walked into town.

It turned out, they were going ice-skating, something that Clara had loved doing as a child, which the Doctor had learned from her father after a brief chat on the phone. The Doctor himself had never ice-skated before, he divulged and he had been hoping that as Clara enjoyed it so much, she could teach him. Clara knew this was a bad idea. He was never going to manage it and sure enough, the second he was on the ice, he looked like a giraffe trying to play football in roller skates. He skidded and was straight on his arse before Clara even had her boots on. She giggled as she joined him on the ice, sliding circles around him for about a minute before taking pity on him and picking him up. He held onto her arm like his life depended on it as they made towards a stretch of uninhabited ice. He was flailing all over the place and Clara knew she wouldn't be strong enough to hold him, so it came as no surprise to her, but quite a surprise to him (apparently he didn't realise he weighed enough to pull her down with him) when they tumbled to the ground, Clara landing on top of him.

"Reminds me of how we first met," he chuckled as she picked herself up. She blushed again, using her scarf as cover as he flailed and managed to stay up for all of twenty seconds before crashing back onto the ice. Clara doubled over laughing as the Doctor half-crawled to a wall he could hold onto. She whizzed over and kissed his cheek as he succeeded while leaning against the wall. He spluttered and blushed and slipped, almost hitting the ground again but clinging to the boards for dear life.

After a few hours of the Doctor falling and Clara laughing so hard she was convinced that she had pulled something, they decided they were too cold and too worn out and so they went to get lunch. There was a nice little café nearby so they sat in there, letting hot chocolate warm their veins as the Doctor ordered them cookies and brownies. Clara whined about how fat she was going to get, so he also ordered an apple and plonked it down in front of her. Clara muttered something about not being able to stand apples, so he pocketed it for later. He was in a good mood and then after lunch, he took her to the theatre. Clara moaned about how much tickets must have cost, but he ignored her. They were going to see Wicked and Clara loved it. The Doctor got bored and drifted off about halfway through but when Clara started singing along loudly, he jerked back into reality and she could've sworn she heard him say something about an angel that she chose to ignore.

They got back about six and Clara was still cheerfully humming Wicked music while the Doctor desperately tried to get her to stop. She knew that they were meeting her dad for dinner in half an hour, so she went to go and get changed, but he dragged her into his room first. She looked at him, puzzled but he didn't see it, as he was already halfway under his bed, exposing her to his toned chest again as his shirt snagged and it ripped as he crawled out, muttering expletives as he tried to compose himself. Clara bit her lip to stop herself from howling with laughter but also because she found herself admiring his chest again. That had to stop. The Doctor was her support system and you didn't need a hot support system, or a passionate relationship with one. You needed stability, reliability and friendship. He was holding out a badly wrapped present and she took it uneasily.

"As you can see, wrapping presents wasn't something I had to do growing up," he joked and Clara felt a guilty pang run through her. She hated when he made light of the traumas of his childhood, especially when his eyes constantly betrayed him. "Open it up, if you can!"

Clara tore at the dodgy wrapping and it fell away underneath her, leaving her with a photo frame, split into smaller sections. There was space for one large photo, which was filled with a picture of both of Clara's parents, back when they were still a happy family. There were three smaller pictures, all of Clara and her mum. Her eyes were swimming with tears and she found herself speechless. She staggered back, unable to stop herself from crying and she saw the Doctor looking horrified. She laughed at him and launched herself at him, burying her head into his chest and staring up at his great big chin.

"Thank you so much," she whispered. "This means the world to me, you have no idea how much I love it. You amazing, incredible man. Nobody's ever got me anything so thoughtful."

"It's just a photo frame," the Doctor chuckled. "Anyone can see you miss your mum, I just wanted to make sure that you had something close to you to turn to when you need to think about her."

There he went again, Clara thought. He was acting as though the most wonderful of presents was a simple thing, something that anyone could have picked out. He'd also said that anyone could see she was missing her mum. He couldn't have been more wrong. Even her own father couldn't see it. He'd made the most soul-searching of statements seem ordinary. He was anything but ordinary, Clara told herself. He was the Doctor.

"For fuck's sake, I'm going to have to redo my makeup as well as change before we go out," she laughed through her tears. "My mascara is everywhere you bloody great git. Thank you Doctor," she added sincerely. "Ever since I met you, you've been an insanely good friend to me and I didn't even realise I could laugh or smile as much as I have with you. I think every day with you makes me giggle more than I giggled in the whole 30 months before I met you. I know it's only been a couple of months, but I feel like you've always been there for me."

"I am here for you Clara," he replied simply, shrugging as if it was nothing. "And as far as people go, I wish I'd had someone like you in the orphanage. Someone exceptional who understands what it's like to feel pain and rage on such a scale and not know who to blame for it. And despite that, you're still so sweet and funny and cheerful."

"Because of you," she mumbled. "I don't think I'm that person without your support."

"And I'm not the same person without you either. See, we bring out the best in each other," he grinned. "Now, off you pop, get changed. Your dad will be questioning what's happened to us."

"Nah, he probably thinks we're having a quickie before we meet him," Clara teased casually, getting the reaction she was after as he went purple and started stammering. "Oh for goodness' sake Chin-Boy, you need to stop losing your shit every time I flirt. It's too funny."

He mumbled his apologies and ushered her out eventually, leaving Clara only fifteen minutes to change and ensuring that they were late to meet her dad. Clara opted for a deep blue dress, with matching earrings and makeup. She wore her hair down and curly, teased into a style that the Doctor loved, ringlets falling gently onto her shoulders. He hadn't realised that he'd been mesmerised by Clara's beauty until he'd seen her again, bumping into her in that lecture had been a pleasant surprise for him, as had the ease with which all the details of their conversation had flooded back to him. She was truly exceptional. It was just a shame that she didn't look at him the way he looked at her. He was falling for her and he was happy to do so, but he knew he had to stop, because she would never feel the same way about him. She saw him as the victim in his story but the truth was so much worse than that. If he told her the truth, if she found out the truth, then her entire support system would melt away. He cared about her so much that he couldn't bear to hurt her, so it was better that nothing happened. She could never love the monster he truly was, only the innocent, tortured orphan she saw. She pitied him, he knew and she found him adorable, like a puppy. In many ways, that's what he was, her puppy. And girls didn't marry their puppies; they married the men they loved.

But, the Doctor admitted to himself, she clearly enjoyed having him around and loved spending time with him, which would have to be enough. She'd invited him to dinner with her father after all, so clearly she wanted him there, but the Doctor couldn't help but wait for the rug to be pulled out from underneath him.

"So, Doctor," Dave was saying. "It's wonderful to finally meet you, Clara talks about you all the time!"

"Thanks," the Doctor grinned as Clara elbowed her dad under the table. He missed her blush as he focused on her father. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you sir, Clara's been looking forward to seeing you." That much at least was true. The Doctor felt bad for Clara, in that she couldn't open up to her dad. She was very different in the presence of her father. She was constantly walking on eggshells, acting as if everything she said had to be precise or any slip up would be problematic. She was very different and he wondered if this was what she was always like when the Doctor wasn't around. Her smiles were pained and forced and her laugh anything but genuine but Dave lapped it up, completely oblivious. This was the façade she talked about, the one that the Doctor had smashed through. He felt guilt rise up in him. She shouldn't just be lowering the façade for him, otherwise it was pointless.

"When's your birthday Doctor?" Clara mused and he felt the empty pit in his stomach rise and threaten to overwhelm all thought. He smiled sadly, unable to prevent the wistfulness reaching his eyes. Clara had spotted it of course, the pity was coming again. Her puppy had a thorn stuck in its foot.

"I don't have a birthday," he replied, shrugging. "I only have the day I reached the orphanage, that was the birthday they gave me and the day I escaped the orphanage. And I know which one I'd rather celebrate."

"So we'll celebrate that day," Clara beamed at him and he felt warmth flood him. How could she do that? Turn his worst of memories into a reason to smile and be happy. Clara's smile was a genuine one he realised and her dad seemed taken aback by it.

"I can't remember the last time you smiled like that," he said quietly. "So Doctor, if you don't have parents or anyone, what do you do over the holidays?"

"Oh you know," the Doctor shrugged again, suddenly very interested in his vegetables. "Chill at home, cook myself Christmas dinner, and watch Christmas TV. Buy myself something nice and pretend that I don't know what it is. Last year I got myself a pinball machine, I didn't even know I wanted one." There they were again. The looks of sympathy. Oh poor old Doctor. If only they knew the truth.

"You could come and stay with me this Christmas?" Clara asked. He looked at her in shock. There was pity and then there was charity and the Doctor had never been a fan of charity. "Please, I'm not just asking because I feel bad for you," she added quickly, as if she'd read his thoughts. "You've been so amazingly nice to me today and all year, so it only seems fair that I repay you for some of that. Besides, I'd love the company, Christmas can be a lonely time of year," she added quietly so that her father couldn't hear. "I've been thinking about it for a while, I was just waiting for the right time to ask you. Dad?"

"Clara love, I think the Oswald household could use a bit of Christmas spirit," he chuckled. "If you don't mind, then it's okay by me. And if he's half as good a cook as you say he is, then we might actually have a decent Christmas meal for once, as I'm no Gordon Ramsey and you once tried to freeze and defrost a cup of tea." The Doctor and Clara pulled faces at that. "What do you say Doctor?"

"I…" he was lost for words. That didn't happen to him. Ever. What had Clara done to him? She'd made him feel wanted. And that was something he would never thought he would feel. How could he turn her down now? "Of course I'll come," he choked. "I'm just really touched. Thank you Clara. Thank you Mr Oswald." The Doctor smiled. Clara was good for him. Or bad for him. It was impossible to tell which.

* * *

Dave was staying in a hotel but he insisted that the Doctor and Clara returned to campus so they could go out with their friends. Clara nibbled her lip in regret but he insisted so they went back to K-block and got drinking. Britney, Josie and Jack all joined them, as well as Ten and his girlfriend Rose, plus some other K-blockers. Clara was buoyed by the presence of so many people and half a bottle of vodka later and she was on top of the world. The Doctor had had even more to drink than her and was staggering all over the place. He was kicked out of the club very early and Clara went with him, stumbling out onto the pavement and dispatching her high heels as they ached at her feet.

"You can't go home with no shoes on!" the Doctor yelled, lurching awkwardly towards her as she giggled and shrugged. "Your feet will get cut to ribbons! I'll carry you!" She tried to protest, but he had already scooped her up into his arms and staggered forwards, barely able to keep himself upright, let alone her. He fell and rolled so he took the force of the blow. She gasped as she landed on top of him, her hands wrapped around him, their faces inches apart.

In retrospect, Clara had no idea what made her do what she did next. Her memory of the night would be hazy, but she would always remember the next moment for the rest of her life. The moment she kissed the Doctor for the first time. It was probably because his little pout was attractive but more to do with the fact she was wasted and thought it would be hilarious. She pressed him down, grinding him and she pressed her lips against his. He didn't react for a moment, then his tongue shot into her mouth and she gasped, impressed with his technique. She rolled and they lay side by side in the road for a moment. Then reality hit Clara like a freight train and she rolled away from the kiss.

"Sorry," she winced. "I'm hammered. Let's go home."

They didn't say another word to each other as they staggered home but they were both electrified by their thoughts. The Doctor was happy as could be, but Clara could feel dread and insecurity plaguing her every thought. When she got home, she showered quickly, as if she could wash what had happened off her and then she went to bed. She didn't sleep so much as pass out whilst in his room, the Doctor had done a little dance before going to bed, unable to sleep a wink.


	6. Chapter 6: After the Kiss

***Hello everybody! It's that time of day again, where another chapter is unleashed into the wild, to roam free and prosper. Now as you'll remember, the last chapter ended with a Whouffle kiss. This chapter deals with the aftermath, and I've decided to do things a bit differently, so I hope you like it. Enjoy and as ever, thanks for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting! TPD***

* * *

Clara's head was going to split if she wasn't careful. She groaned and fumbled at her desk, looking for the aspirin water she'd left there before she left the previous night. Mercifully, she'd not knocked it over in a drunken haze and downed it, instantly feeling more awake and less like an elephant was trampling on her skull. For Clara, most of the previous night was a bit of a blur. But one thing stuck out like a big chin. A kiss. Her eyes widened at the memory and she ran to the toilet to vomit. She liked to think she was vomiting because of the alcohol rather than the memory of the kiss but it was probably a bit of both. How could she possibly have kissed him? He was the Doctor, he was her friend, her support system. Nothing could ever happen between them, not ever. He probably couldn't believe it. He was so flustered and awkward around anything even remotely sexual. He'd probably want to pretend it had never happened. And her? Clara bit her lip. He was attractive, kind and smart, why wouldn't she want to be with him? And yet, it wasn't that simple. She couldn't get dependent on the Doctor, wouldn't get dependent on the Doctor. The kiss was a mistake, she was sure of it.

Clara headed to the kitchen to make breakfast, expecting to see the Doctor there, waiting for her. Instead, she was greeted by Josie and Britney, shooting off smug looks and giggling to themselves, falling silent when she entered. They were both looking at her funny and it didn't take Clara more than a second to realise why they were being odd.

"You heard about me and the Doctor?" she asked, irritated.

"We heard nothing," Josie insisted. "But we saw how close you two have been recently and when you disappeared together last night…well tongues will wag. But if there's something to have heard Clara, babes, out with it! Did you two shag in the toilets or something? Or did he wait until you were back, use one of his weird devices on you?"

"He doesn't have weird devices!" Clara snapped angrily, the slight on the Doctor annoying her much more than the insinuation, before she caught up and protested her innocence. "No, we didn't have sex and I wouldn't have sex with him," she continued, more pissed off with the girls and herself than the Doctor. "We just kissed and it was an enormous, stupid mistake. One I hope never happens again. The Doctor is my friend and he can never be anything more than that because the simple truth is," she took a deep breath and tried not to make this next part sound harsh, even though he couldn't hear her. "I'm not attracted to him; I'll probably never be attracted to him. He's my best friend, but that's it."

Josie shrugged and Britney snorted. Clara wasn't sure either of the girls believed her but she didn't care. All she cared about was that she hadn't mucked things up with the Doctor by doing something as unbelievably stupid as kissing him. She threw the kettle on and at that point, the kitchen door fell open and a certain physics student came tumbling through, slicking back his ruffled hair as he did so. Clara had pulled his mug out of the cupboard and put the sugar in on instinct, not even aware she'd done it until the kettle finished boiling and she was pouring the water. She didn't look at him and just listened as he engaged in polite conversation with Josie and Britney, desperate to glean anything she could about his mood before she faced him. She found her hand shaking and the kettle slipped, pouring boiling water onto her hand. She yelped in pain and dropped the kettle down, swearing loudly and rushing over to the sink.

"Clara?" the Doctor called, rushing over. "Are you alright?"

The concern in his voice made Clara instantly feel better. Whatever the fuck had happened between them the night before, it hadn't stopped him caring about her. He took her hand and ran it under the cold tap, smiling warmly at her and kissing her hand as she returned the smile through gritted teeth as her hand stung.

"Thanks," she said, relieved more than anything else that things weren't weird between them. "My hand just slipped is all. Could you grab my milk while I finish pouring?"

"I'll finish the teas," the Doctor insisted. "Don't worry about it, just wrap that hand in an ice pack. Josie, could you grab Clara an ice pack?"

Josie obliged and despite Clara's protests, he sat her down and fussed over the teas as Josie handed Clara the pack. The Doctor was whistling cheerfully and Clara half-wondered if he remembered what had gone on the previous night. Part of her wanted him to remember, if only so that when someone told him, it wouldn't be awkward. The other part wanted it to remain locked away, so he wouldn't ever have to react to it.

"So Doctor, have fun last night?" Britney nudged, as if reading Clara's thoughts and steering the conversation towards the kiss deliberately. "Get with anyone?" That wasn't even subtle.

"I don't believe so," he replied cheerily. "I'm not big on the whole kissing thing, never really tried it." Well he was bloody good at it for someone with no experience, Clara thought, before catching herself. He didn't remember then.

"You don't remember kissing Clara then?"

Clara shot Britney a death glare before staring at the Doctor, judging his reaction. He spun on the spot, looking confused and glancing between Clara and Britney. Then, he laughed and Clara felt a huge weight leave her shoulders. He shook his head with laughter and handed Clara her cup of tea.

"I kissed Clara, did I?" he chuckled. "Well I imagine that was a riveting experience for her. Or the opposite of riveting, more likely. Well Clara, I whole-heartedly apologise for kissing you, it was silly of me. You're my friend and a very good friend at that and the last thing either of us need is to make things complicated. So, why don't we just pretend it didn't happen, eh?"

"My thoughts exactly Doctor," Clara grinned, happier than she could have expected. She couldn't believe how well that had gone, considering how messy things could have been between them. And yet, she felt something, pressing against her chest. She wasn't sure what it was, and in the years to come she'd probably look back at it as a pang of regret, but she dismissed it as weirdness and carried on, unaware that a small piece of her heart, a part she didn't even know she'd given to the Doctor, had just shattered…

* * *

The Doctor rolled out of bed when he heard Clara leave her room. It was odd, he thought. He didn't intend to wait for her to get up, but he couldn't help but hear when she did. That was the thing about student halls, if you were awake you could pretty much gauge everyone's whereabouts just by noise. And the Doctor hadn't slept, excitement overwhelming him. He had kissed Clara. Or more specifically, Clara had kissed him. He had always thought of himself as her puppy, but if she was kissing him, then maybe she did have feelings for him after all. Maybe his thoughts about her not feeling the same way as him were all wrong. He didn't even consider the skeletons in his closet. If Clara truly cared for him and wanted to be with him, then they would be a problem for the future. The Doctor dressed quickly, looking for a blue tie to match the blue jacket he pulled on. Whistling cheerfully, he headed to the kitchen and stopped just before he entered, hearing his name mentioned.

""You heard about me and the Doctor?" That was Clara's voice. She didn't sound happy, the Doctor reflected. He frowned and decided to wait outside a bit longer.

"We heard nothing," one of the girls, possibly Josie was replying. "But we saw how close you two have been recently and when you disappeared together last night…well tongues will wag. But if there's something to have heard Clara, babes, out with it! Did you two shag in the toilets or something? Or did he wait until you were back, use one of his weird devices on you?"

This stung the Doctor. Weird devices? He was a scientist, not some weird creepy old man probing young girls. But then he supposed, in the wrong hands, some of what he was making could be used for…oh shut up Doctor.

"He doesn't have weird devices!" Clara was shouting. The Doctor felt pride and warmth rise up inside him. "No, we didn't have sex and I wouldn't have sex with him," she continued, and the Doctor felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. "We just kissed and it was an enormous, stupid mistake. One I hope never happens again. The Doctor is my friend and he can never be anything more than that because the simple truth is, I'm not attracted to him; I'll probably never be attracted to him. He's my best friend, but that's it."

Every word she said drove a dagger into the Doctor's heart. So that was it then. Clara had made a drunken mistake. She didn't have feelings for him. Of course she didn't. How could she? She was a beautiful, amazing girl who could be with any guy in the world. And him? He was just a mad Doctor who was socially awkward and recoiled at the idea of her flirting. She pitied him and she enjoyed his company but she could never…care for him, love him. Not that way. He had been stupid, so very stupid to think that she ever could. Clara was too good for him, he knew that. And it turned out that she knew it too. But he couldn't let it on. He couldn't let Clara see him hurt. If she knew that she had upset him, she would feel guilty. If she knew he had feelings for her, she'd be humiliated. The Doctor didn't care about his own feelings, but he couldn't bear to see Clara hurt. He was her friend, her support system. That was what she needed him to be, so that was what he would be. Clara wasn't the only one who could operate a façade. He threw open the kitchen door, grinning at the girls and sorting out his messy hair. He shot Clara a look but she was busy with the kettle, not facing him. He turned to Josie and Britney, making awkward small talk that he was useless at. More than anything, he just wanted Clara to turn around so he could reassure her that they were fine.

"Ow!" Clara hissed at this point, scolding herself with the kettle. The Doctor's protective side launched into action as his broken heart lurched for her. He felt red hot pain shoot through him at the thought of her in pain and he rushed to her side, asking if she was alright. She looked like she was in pain, so he massaged her hand under the cold water, kissing it as the intimate contact sent a shiver down his spine and he told himself he was only doing it to make her feel better.

"Thanks," Clara mumbled, her smile genuine and it made the Doctor's heart soar, only for him to remind himself that a smile was all he was going to get from her and it shot back down, crumpled and stinging. "My hand just slipped is all. Could you grab my milk while I finish pouring?"

"I'll finish the teas," he told her, desperate to see her smile again. "Don't worry about it; just wrap that hand in an ice pack. Josie, could you grab Clara an ice pack?"

Thankfully, neither Josie nor Clara put up much of a fight and the Doctor returned to his tea-making, trying not to break his cup through gripping it too hard and resisting the urge to throw it against the wall. He let his face crumple in agony, knowing Clara couldn't see him. He whistled, attempting to give off the message that everything was fine and then Britney sent daggers burning into his heart again.

"So Doctor, have fun last night? Get with anyone?"

He should pretend not to remember. That would make it easy on Clara. If she thought he didn't remember, then she wouldn't have to deal with it and he could pretend it had never happened. After all, if she regretted it so much, then having to discuss it again would be exactly what she wanted.

"I don't believe so," he lied, breaking through the pain barrier to make his voice sound cheerful. "I'm not big on the whole kissing thing, never really tried it."

"You don't remember kissing Clara then?"

Bugger. He swivelled, allowing a mask of confusion to slip onto his face as he stared between Clara and Britney. What should he do? What should he say? Well, Clara wanted friendship. She wanted it to have never happened. So, he had to play it off, knock it back. He laughed, a cracked sound that he struggled to keep the bitterness out of. Thankfully, Clara bought it.

"I kissed Clara, did I?" the Doctor handed Clara her mug, keeping his voice as even as possible. "Well I imagine that was a riveting experience for her. Or the opposite of riveting, more likely. Well Clara, I whole-heartedly apologise for kissing you, it was silly of me. You're my friend and a very good friend at that and the last thing either of us need is to make things complicated. So, why don't we just pretend it didn't happen, eh?"

There, that ought to do it. A virtuoso acting performance Doctor, grade A, he told himself. Clara lapped it up, agreeing to it enthusiastically, the final nail in his coffin. He gave himself a few minutes to finish his tea. Then he went to his room, protesting that he had work to be getting on with. That was probably the most true thing he'd said in that room. He did have work to do, he just had no intention of doing it. When he got to his room, he kicked his bed, throwing himself down on it and sobbing into his pillow. He hadn't cried in a very long time and he hated it. Pulling himself together, the Doctor shook himself and stood, deciding he needed to get some air. He took off his jacket and tie and changed into a pair of trainers. He grabbed his campus map and found his mind wandering to one particular spot. Surely not, not after so long? He would be making a huge mistake. But then, he had nothing left to lose. The Doctor ran.

* * *

Clara knocked on the Doctor's door but he didn't answer. She bit her lip nervously and went into her room, throwing herself on her bed and relieved to see that the Doctor had texted her. She flipped it open and smiled. Classic Doctor.

_Gone running, it helps with the hangover. Will bring back fish and chips if you like. Let me know, or don't, if you don't want any. Could also get pizza, if that would be more to your liking. Have a good day Clara. X_

She quickly thumbed a reply, telling him that she'd be happy to eat whatever he wanted and not to run too long as it was cold and she hated the idea of him getting pneumonia. She felt a bit like his mum but sent it anyway, giggling at herself. You didn't snog your mum, she reminded herself, but there was nothing wrong with snogging a friend. Thank goodness he'd been okay with it. Clara settled down to do some work and it wasn't until many hours later when he finally texted back. She frowned when she glanced at the time, worried about him. He'd been gone all day, hours and hours. She dived for her phone, letting her hand slip onto the back of her head to scratch, like it did when she was nervous. Bad habit, she'd been trying to cut it out.

_Sorry for taking so long, ended up in the library working. Nothing to worry about, not been kidnapped by Saxon goons if that's what you were worried about. On my way back now, picking up burgers on the way. Completely plain, tons of ketchup, just the way you like it. Twenty minutes, be ready. X_

Clara smiled, releasing a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. She found herself constantly worrying about the Doctor since his beating at the hands of the Master. They'd only spoken it once and he'd told her that since they'd failed to beat it out of him, he doubted they'd try again. There was no way, he told her, that they'd find anything by breaking into his room as when he wasn't working, everything was stored in an impregnable safe, to which she had joked that there was such a thing as too keen. He'd smiled at that and told her he was going to revolutionise science. She'd been inclined to believe him.

The knock at the door must be him, she reckoned. She threw it open, only to see Saxon standing there. Her eyes widened and she went to shut the door. He blocked it with his foot.

"I'm not here to hurt you Clara," he said gently and her eyebrows hit the roof. "The Doctor wouldn't tell my his secrets but I'm sure you know that. And I know there's no point asking you, you wouldn't understand it and he wouldn't tell you. Threatening you would be pointless, because that would only make him more protective and angry. There are, of course, limits to what I can get away with," he added. "So really, I'm short on options. Which is why I'm here, to ask for your help. You have experienced the worst of me Clara, I freely admit it. I was a drunken mess and I was very rude and possessive to you. I have some very nasty tendencies and they get out of hand after a few drinks. I come not to ask for your forgiveness, but for your assistance. Whatever you think of me, the Doctor is dangerous." She raised an eyebrow at that. "There are many things you don't know, things he would never tell you. And I cannot tell you either, for reasons I cannot explain. But he is a dangerous man and the technology he is developing is very dangerous. It needs to be done properly, not built by a madman in his bedroom. If I had his blueprints, I could take them to the department, make sure they were safely tested. The Doctor, however, would use them for bad purposes. He may have charmed you Clara, but don't let him fool you, those designs are dangerous and I just want to make sure the right people have them."

"Why should I trust you?" she asked, snapping. "You've been nothing but a bully and a monster since I met you and you can't even tell me why the Doctor is so dangerous. You make all these bold claims with no examples or evidence. He's been nothing but kind the entire time I've known him and he's a good person. He may be eccentric but he has a heart of gold and twice your brain. So get the fuck out of my block and if you threaten the Doctor or hurt him again I will go straight to the Accommodation officer, am I clear?"

He smiled wistfully and nodded sadly. "I'm sorry you don't trust me Clara," he said, sounding as if he actually meant it. "But don't trust the Doctor. Ask him why he's working out of his bedroom. Ask him why he won't let anyone see his designs. And you'll see, he's working on something evil. You need to see it Clara, for all our sakes."

* * *

Clara didn't say anything about the Master while they ate, but the Doctor had picked up on her negative mood and asked her what was bothering her. When he suggested it might have something to do with the kiss, she shook her head and explained. She found herself uneasy. The Master had seemed so sure the Doctor was bad news, and whilst she didn't believe a word of it, something he'd said rang true. Why was the Doctor not doing his experiments through the proper channels? He told her that his work was being monitored by the right people, the only people he trusted but she'd never seen any of them. The Doctor asked her to trust him and in that moment, she realised. She did. She completely trusted him. All her worries melted away and they enjoyed a fun, relaxing evening. Their kiss didn't matter, the Master didn't matter. She was with the Doctor, her friend and life was good. For her at least. She didn't realise, couldn't realise, that inside, he was dying.

* * *

***The Potter Doctor here. I just wanted to apologise if Clara comes off as a bit of a bitch in this chapter but she's very vulnerable and doesn't think she can let the Doctor in. Also, she genuinely doesn't realise how much she means to him. Keep an eye out, next chapter this time tomorrow. TPD***


	7. Chapter 7: Blackpool

***Welcome to the house of fun. Or in other words, hello! It's almost 2014, so I present to you the last Damaged chapter of 2013! In this one, we see the Doctor and Clara in Blackpool for Christmas where they meet some old friends. Bit of a light, fluffy one but things get a lot more interesting in the next few chapters. Enjoy! And as ever, thanks to those of you who read, review, favourite and follow. I dunno what I'd do without you. Much love. TPD***

* * *

Clara had never been a fan of trains. They made her feel uneasy. It wasn't that she was travel sick, far from it. She loved the idea of sitting there, staring out of the window, watching the world fly by. But she hated sitting there, crammed next to fat old men who sweated and leered at her for hours on end. It made her feel deeply uncomfortable. But her dad was too busy to pick her up for Christmas, so she had to lug her suitcase with all the things she needed for the two weeks she was at home, with most of her stuff left back at uni, onto the train, grumbling as she did so. Thankfully, she wasn't cramped next to anyone, as the Doctor grabbed them a couple of seats and let her sit by the window.

They settled in for the three hour train and the Doctor pulled out a laptop, asking her if she fancied a film. Clara obliged despite the fact that she was knackered and they settled in with headphones, the Doctor putting on Star Wars, which he apparently loved but that Clara wasn't overly interested in. She found herself nodding off and when she awoke, she realised she'd been sleeping on the Doctor's shoulder and he was watching her affectionately. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Clara sat up like a shot, glancing out the window to try and ascertain her bearings.

"Where are we?" she asked sleepily. "How long was I out?"

"Oh only a couple of hours," the Doctor replied with a smile. "I've no idea where we are, but it's very pretty, don't you think? I've spent my whole life before uni in grimy cities, seeing the countryside is such a relief. The bloke said something about Preston, I think? Does that mean we're close?"

Clara snorted at the Doctor's ignorance of basic geography and nudged him with her shoulder playfully. "Yeah Chin, it means we're about half an hour away. I'm sorry I nodded off on you, that must've been a pain in the backside to deal with."

"Oh it's fine," he reassured her and she felt reassured. He gave her that warm smile of his, the twinkle in his eyes almost drowning out the sadness, but never quite shining all the way through. "I was enjoying the film, barely noticed if I'm honest." If he'd been any other guy, Clara would have called him out on it, but the Doctor did get wrapped up in things. Often, he wouldn't notice the forest for the trees and he probably hadn't even felt her head on his shoulder.

But of course he had. The Doctor couldn't shake her off if he wanted to. The feel of her long, chocolate hair just tickling his forearm as it sprinkled down; the smell of her, cinnamon and vanilla chocolate mixed with something indescribable; her hot breath occasionally tickling his neck. The Doctor's heart was pounding like a jackhammer, so hard he had been surprised the sound of it didn't wake her up. She yawned and tapped his arm playfully, unaware of the impact that even such a simple touch did to him. The Doctor had hoped that his solution to his Clara problem would be kicking in by now, but it still wasn't working. He realised she was staring at him and he shook himself back into reality.

"I said," Clara was reminding him. "Don't forget that we need to pick up my Dad's present when we get to Blackpool. He's stuck at the office until 8, so that gives us plenty of time to wrap it and stash it somewhere until the tree is up."

"I love Christmas trees," the Doctor grinned, thinking of the memories that he'd had at home, putting up the tree, making his own decorations, hooking up the fairy lights to a generator so that the lights were configured twenty different ways, in about fifty different colours. "Christmas lights and I have a very special relationship." This earned him a soul piercing giggle from Clara. "I can reconfigure yours, if you want; I know how to cheat the system so they're a bit less boring."

"Aha, no way Doctor," she raised an eyebrow at him here and he felt like a naughty child. "I know you're a physicist and that's your area of expertise but the day I let you fix anything in my house is the day that I admit that between me and my dad, we have zero practical skills and that's simply untrue. Besides, you'd probably blow them up or something, there are always mini-explosions coming from your room and it explains the eyebrows."

He frowned at her, upset by the eyebrows comment. He was also disappointed that he didn't get to fix the lights, but it was more about the eyebrows. What was wrong with his eyebrows? Clara was already laughing now and he laughed along with her, the sound of her laughter warming his insides. They were nearly at Blackpool and the Doctor was interested to see where the infamous Clara Oswald lived…

* * *

It turned out that Clara Oswald lived in a small house on the outskirts of Blackpool that they had moved into after her mum died. Therefore, it only had a couple of bedrooms, a kitchen and a living room. Clara's bedroom was en-suite as her dad insisted Clara have the nicer bedroom and took the smaller one, which was next to the main bathroom anyway. They got home long before Clara's father and Clara gave the Doctor a quick tour, which by her own standards, wasn't very impressive. The house was nothing special, she admitted but the Doctor acted interested in everything. They even had a little garden with a bench. It was all very sweet and boring. The tour culminated in the most interesting room of the house, Clara's bedroom. It was a lot like her bedroom at uni, except the walls were painted pale red with streaks of pink and it contained the fluffiest duvet the Doctor reckoned he'd ever seen. Before Clara could stop him, he had whipped his shoes off and he was bouncing up and down on her bed, cheering like a small child. Clara couldn't stop herself laughing at the preposterous man-child leaping up and down on her bed and squealed as he grabbed her to pull her up. It had been a long time for Clara Oswald since she'd bounced on a bed for fun, so she obliged. The ceiling was very high, otherwise the Doctor would've whacked his head by now. Clara was laughing like a school girl, remembering when she was five and she invited young Stephen Thompson over to her old house and they'd played on the swings before sitting in the kitchen drinking hot cocoa. Clara was dragged from her memory by the Doctor whacking her hard in her side, sending her spinning but managing to keep her balance.

"What are you doing?" she cried, laughing despite herself at the ridiculous grinning face that looked at her wickedly, brandishing a pillow.

"Pillow fight!" the Doctor informed her. "Catch!"

He threw a pillow to her and she stepped forward, catching it and smacking the Doctor with it before he had a chance to pick up his own. He staggered back, windmilling his arms like crazy to keep his balance but he fell back, landing on the soft carpet floor below with an almighty thud that reduced Clara to tears of laughter as he shot up to a sitting position indignantly. He dived at her sweeping her off her feet and she flipped in the air, the duvet breaking her fall. She swore at him, but he'd already rolled away, seizing another pillow and Clara felt the back of her head being squashed by it. This time, he didn't relinquish and promptly sat on her chest, causing Clara to gasp in pain.

"You bastard!" she spat, laughing despite herself. She couldn't help but find herself unavoidably amused by this insane man who had planted himself on top of her. "Get off me!"

"Not until you concede the fight," the Doctor warned her, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Goodness Clara, when was your last pillow fight?"

"When was yours?" she retaliated and then bit her lip, annoyed at herself for asking such an insensitive question.

"Well it's been ten years, but this is the first one I've had that didn't have pillows filled with books and didn't result in me breaking three kids noses, so I'd say that this is the first real pillow fight I've ever had," he responded casually, and she could almost feel him smile, although all she could see was the black of the duvet. The pillow lifted and Clara tried to turn her head to see his stupid face but one glance at his smug grin and she realised she'd rather have carried on looking at the dark. "Are you going to concede, or am I going to have to noogie you?"

"Doctor," Clara said in a dangerous voice. "If you noogie me, I will punish you in an exquisite and extremely painful way. Tread carefully. Very carefully."

Her warning went unheeded, as seconds later, she felt his knuckle press into her skull, digging in and messing up her hair. She squirmed and squealed, calling him every name under the Sun, promising vengeance and barely able to breathe through laughter and the idiot on her back. After what seemed like an age but in reality was about twenty seconds, she finally gave in, her stubbornness failing her as she begged him to stop and he jumped off her, smiling like the Devil. Clara stumbled to her feet, panting, worn out like he'd been doing more than just play fighting with her.

"I will not forget this," she warned him, pointing her finger at him accusingly. "I swear on my life Doctor, I will not forget. And someday, maybe someday soon, I will have my revenge. And you will regret the day that you noogied Clara Oswald. I promise you that."

The Doctor didn't seem overly fearful as he rolled his eyes at her and threw himself down on the huge sofa in her room. That was where he would be sleeping, Clara had decided, negotiating with her father. He told her that she was a grown adult and that her friends could sleep wherever she wanted, provided she didn't do anything overly inappropriate under his roof. Clara had reminded him that she and the Doctor were good friends and nothing more. The Doctor had brightened considerably when she'd told him the sleeping arrangements and now, as if to consolidate that, he was glancing around, making himself at home.

"Dad will be home in a couple of hours," she told him. "He told me to eat before he got back; he's having takeout with some people from work at the office. We also need to wrap his present. I'll see if he's left us anything edible, and if not, there's an above average chippie just down the street. He'll have probably left some cash behind for us. Stay here, don't break anything!" she added, with a warning finger and a sly smile that kept breaking onto her face. He saluted at her as she skipped away, taking the stairs two at a time. She strolled into the kitchen, whistling a tune she'd heard the Doctor whistle before with no idea what it was or where it came from. She found a note from her dad in the fridge, saying there was no food but twenty quid in the drawer for her to get food. She retrieved the money, smiling inwardly and headed back upstairs, slightly apprehensive of the damage that the guy in her bedroom could do in the thirty seconds or so she'd been gone.

"Chippie it is!" she told him as she entered, hoping he hadn't meddled with anything important. He was stood up, admiring a photo by her bedside table. Clara felt the world rush out from underneath her and her smile evaporated. She felt like a deer trapped in the headlights and as he turned to face her, his own smile vanished, replaced by a look of pure concern that made Clara's heart melt. He cared so much, she knew that but every time he tried to help her, she just felt like running away. He put the photo of her mum down and wordlessly walked over to her, enveloping her in a hug that made Clara feel instantly better. His hugs always did, few and far between though they were. She took a deep breath, holding back any potential for tears. She put her hands on the Doctor's arms as he let her go and she looked up at him, his big sad eyes trained on her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, feeling her cheeks go red. "I mean, it's just a picture. I've got one at uni as well. Hell you gave me that amazing photo frame. I don't know why I'm still being so…"

"You're not being anything," he told her. "You never have to apologise to me for the way you feel about her Clara, she was your mother and you lost her. It's a brutal thing for any child to go through and some people never recover from it. You're still struggling with it every single day and the only thing I want to do is help you move past it. Come out the other side stronger than ever. You're my friend Clara, and I care about you a lot."

He was so good at that. He could make her feel better. Somewhere along the way, his own endearing awkwardness had begun to fade a touch when he was with her. Clara sniffed and they broke apart. She caught an odd look on his face, one she didn't recognise but didn't say anything and forgot it by the time they had pulled their shoes on. It was a look she would come to recognise and love in time, but for that moment, it was an unsolved mystery.

* * *

13 year old Angie Maitland was bored of waiting in line, but Artie was desperate to pick up chips and their dad had already given them the money, so there was nothing she could do about it. There were only three people in the queue at the chip shop and they were at the back of it, but the people at the front were taking ages, nattering away to the owner who they were friends with. The door to the shop clattered open behind them, giving Angie a gust of cold air that made her mutter a curse. She was going to turn and glare at the person who opened it, but a familiar laugh turned her glare into a bright smile, already plastered on her face before she was looking at her old babysitter. Her long brown hair was windswept and her brown eyes were full of joy. Angie couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Clara Oswald so happy, certainly not since her mum died tragically. It would have everything to do, Angie decided, with the man on Clara's arm. He was odd. Very odd. He wore suspenders and a purple tweed jacket, with insane floppy hair and a grotesque purple tie that looked like something out of a horror movie. But he was grinning and laughing and their arms were linked together, his right with Clara's left. And he had managed to make Clara smile, so whatever he was doing, Angie hoped he carried on doing it.

"Clara!" she cried, tugging at Artie's shirt before running over to embrace Clara, who had been so focused on her strange man that she hadn't even spotted Angie until they were hugging. "How have you been? When did you get back?"

"Hey Angie," Clara beamed. "It's so good to see you again! I've only been back a few hours, but I've been having a blast. How's everything with you?"

"Great yeah, better," Angie smiled and indicated to the Doctor with her head. "Who's your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend!" Clara put in, beating the stranger to the punch. Clara might not have seen it, but there was a look of pain on his face for a moment before he agreed with her. "We're friends. I mean, great friends. This is the Doctor, we met at uni and he's been, well I could sugar coat it but he's been taking care of me."

"Nonsense," the Doctor interjected, shaking Angie's hand enthusiastically as she raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm not a people Doctor, I just like fixing things. Clara makes it all sound so heroic, when in actual fact I've just been sat in her room, watching rubbish films and eating takeout food, whilst bitching about how shit people are and how God owes us a favour. Or, occasionally, how God doesn't exist. Optional module in philosophy, it's a treat."

"Holmes only gave me a 2:1," Clara grumbled. "I'm going to have a word with him."

"Any excuse to be alone with our philosophy tutor," the Doctor chuckled, leaning in close to Angie and whispering conspiratorially: "Clara fancies him."

"Arse!" Clara snapped, swatting him with a gloved hand. As Clara and the Doctor bickered, Angie turned to grab her brother, who had reached the front of the line and was ordering food at long last.

"Oh hello Clara!" Artie grinned, sweeping past Angie to embrace her. Clara introduced Artie to the Doctor as Angie finished up ordering and then the Doctor ordered for him and Clara while she exchanged words with her old charges. After a few minutes of chatting, their food was ready and they had to part ways, but Clara promised to pop over the next day and bring the Doctor with her.

"Doctor who exactly, do you reckon?" Artie asked Angie as they strolled back up the street towards home. "I mean, he seems very nice and funny. And I liked his tie."

"Of course you did," Angie chuckled. "Who cares who he is, he makes Clara happy. That's what's important. And whatever she says, they're totally in love. They're gonna get married and have lots and lots of babies and you and I will get to be bridesmaids."

"I thought only girls were bridesmaids?" Artie asked, obviously confused by this.

"They are," Angie sniggered, leaving Artie to work out the rest of the insult himself.

* * *

"Clara?" the Doctor mumbled from the sofa in the pitch black.

"Doctor?" she replied, smiling into her pillow and trying not to sound exasperated that this was the fifth time he'd interrupted her attempts to sleep. "What is it?"

"Do you think I'm dangerous?"

"No," Clara replied on instinct, not even hesitating for a second. "I think you're kind and wouldn't hurt a fly if it provoked you. Is this about the Master? Because he was just trying to get into my head, you know that. I don't believe for a second that you're developing some dangerous weapon."

"It's physics Clara," the Doctor chuckled. "Almost everything we do can be turned into a weapon. I'm working on something that could be dangerous in the wrong hands, that much is true. That's why it's going to remain in the safest hands I know."

"Your own?" she giggled.

"No," he replied. "Yours. When it's finished, I want you to have it. I still haven't decided if I want to tell the university about it when it's done. They know bits and pieces but not enough to build one of their own. Clara, you might not understand what I'm building, but let's just say I'm building something to open any door. To control technology, to an extent. Something that can use sound waves to do cool things. Like a screwdriver, only sonic. I'm going to call it a sonic pulsar unit."

"What's wrong with sonic screwdriver?" Clara asked him quietly and he snorted with laughter. "This sounds like the sort of thing that could bring down governments in the right hands. And besides, I thought you'd nearly finished it months ago."

"Which is why I'm building a countermand system," he explained. "I'm going to sell the designs to the UN, along with ways to make their system safe from the sonic. Sonic pulsar unit, screwdriver won't be taken seriously. I just want to help people. Sooner or later, somebody else will discover the secret behind sonic technology and with my pulsar unit I can get a head start on them and provide a way to stop anyone from using sonic devices to hack important technology. Sometimes, I wonder if the world is ready for a sonic pulsar unit, but then I think that whether or not it's ready, the sonic is coming. The least I can do is find a way to stop it ending the world. And as for the timing…well nearly is relative, I've been working on it for a long time and if I'm honest, there have been a few setbacks."

Clara was quiet for a moment, running over the Doctor's plans in her head. He'd be so rich, it would be crazy. She didn't know what he'd do with all the money he'd make. Or get himself killed. She bit her lip. He wasn't dangerous, but he was playing with fire.

"This stuff is revolutionary Doctor," she told him. "You'll be beyond rich."

"Nah, it's very rudimentary really," he replied. "This is all just the grand plan. The very first pulsar unit will only be able to open locked doors and activate the hob from the other side of the room. Any sort of computer technology will be stage six. This is only stage two."

"You've planned this out awfully well," Clara complimented her mind racing. "How long have you been working on this?"

"I was ten years old, trapped in an orphanage," he chuckled. "I thought of a million and one ways to get out. When I finally did escape, I dreamed of this device, so I spent the next 8 years planning it out, working out every last detail so that when I came here, I could finally finish the prototype. This is my lifelong dream Clara and I've never told another living soul. Until now. I don't know why now, but I feel like I need to stop lying to you, pretending. Either way, once the prototype is finished, I won't be able to stop this shit erupting, one way or the other."

Clara was touched and felt a swirling range of emotions rush up inside her. She wanted to protect the Doctor but she didn't know how. She wanted to see this prototype, to hear his grand plan and help him in any way she could. But, she supposed, none of the physics would make any sense and he'd had eight years to plan for every eventuality. He knew what he was doing without her. So instead, she just said: "Goodnight Doctor."

"Goodnight Clara."


	8. Chapter 8: Christmas Revelations

***Happy 2014 everybody! I hope you're all as excited as I am for the year ahead, including our first full season with Capaldi as the Doctor and the magnificent Jenna Coleman as his lovely 'associate'. As you can probably tell by my writing, I'm completely crushing on Clara, so here's a chapter to celebrate making it through 2013. I hope you guys enjoy, as it's a Christmasy one and someone has been lying their pants off... As ever, thanks for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting, please continue and check out my other fics. TPD***

* * *

Clara Oswald was used to waking up at noon on Christmas Day, clambering out of bed and going downstairs to open her father's lacklustre attempts at presents and then sitting in awkward silence over a mediocre Christmas dinner. At least when her Grandma came other, things improved but she'd missed last year. Clara had come to accept that Christmas in her household would never be the same, vibrant affair that it had once been. Then, she invited the Doctor to stay. So, this Christmas Day, she was woken by someone shouting her name repeatedly at 7am. She stirred, sitting up to see the Doctor hopping up and down, wearing only boxers and a t-shirt, beaming from ear to ear.

"Good morning Clara!" he greeted. "Merry Christmas!"

His smile proved infectious and Clara gave into it, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and smoothing out her hair self-consciously. She jumped out of bed, her giant nightshirt reaching her knees with joggers underneath. She gave the bouncing boy a salute which he returned and then he thundered down the stairs, Clara right on his heels. If that didn't wake her dad up, nothing would. The lounge was as festive as it had ever been to Clara's knowledge, lights and tinsel up all over the place, the tree glittering and the presents underneath it ready to be unwrapped. The Doctor had shot into the kitchen and Clara heard the kettle even before she made it into the room. She giggled as she heard her father stir above them and the Doctor made three cups of tea, slinging a mug down the counter in Clara's direction, which she stuck out a hand to expertly catch. He winked at her and she felt herself flush. Her dad appeared at this point, wearing his black dressing gown and looking particularly groggy. Clara went over to hug him, as the Doctor gave him a customary nod and salute. He ruffled her hair when they broke apart and strolled into the kitchen, silently accepting the tea cup the Doctor offered him with a smile and appreciative nod.

"Merry Christmas kids," he chuckled after a few swigs. "I'm surprised you're up so early, Clara's normally a lazy bird on Christmas morning. I suppose I have you to thank for the lack of sleep Doctor? Oh relax," he gestured as the Doctor went red and started stammering. "It's Christmas, I'm just happy to see my little girl smiling again. Like I told you at the restaurant, it's good to see the Oswald household having some Christmas cheer. Now then, I suppose you two want to go and open presents?"

Clara couldn't help but giggle as the Doctor enthusiastically grabbed her hand and dragged her to the tree, as if they were 9 and not 19. Well she was, he didn't know how old he was, 18 or 19. She had promised to celebrate his birthday on the day he escaped the orphanage, the 25th March and he appreciated that a lot. The present opening was a lively affair, with Clara getting the usual set of uninspiring gifts of clothes and perfume from her family and friends, with the exception of a gorgeous necklace picked out by Angie from the Maitlands. The Doctor only had the one present to open that wasn't from Clara, but he helped Clara sort through hers, determined not to let her pity him. She had learned by now that pity was not an emotion that the Doctor responded well to, although she couldn't help but feel pangs of guilt that she was opening a handful of presents compared to his one from Ten, some physics gear that she didn't entirely understand but he seemed immensely pleased by. Her dad seemed to love the jumper that she had picked out for him and pulled it straight on, before leaving to make breakfast, giving Clara and the Doctor some space to open each other's gifts. Clara had deliberately left his until last.

"Well, you first," Clara teased. "I want to see your reaction. I've been dying to for a few weeks, ever since I bought you these. Get on with it!" she urged, jumping up and down as the Doctor delicately unwrapped the paper to see a fairly big box. He raised an intrigued eye at Clara and smiled at her as he opened it, a grin of intrigue.

"Bow ties?" he asked with a chuckle. "Bow ties are cool. I could go for a bow tie."

"I thought they completed your look," Clara replied, moving to sit next to him as he admired the set. "See, blue, red, purple, black, beige. They're all pretty awesome, you should try one on when you dress today. Some of your normal ties are really dreary."

"Oi, my ties are not dreary, they're stylish. The orange one especially is…"

"The orange one is an eyesore," Clara laughed. "I almost burned it as a present for you. Trust me; you're better off without it."

"Thank you Clara," the Doctor leaned in and kissed her cheek, resulting in a fierce blush working its face onto her face, as Clara fought to supress any burning desires that were threatening to bubble over within her. The Doctor wasn't a sexual being and she didn't want him to be either. It would ruin everything. "Your turn," the Doctor pointed to her present and she picked it up, shaking it slightly and biting her lip as she tried to work out what it was. It was probably a book, she realised and ripped open the packaging. It was a book all right, a hard backed book with a gold rimmed frame and a latch. Very old fashioned and when she opened it, the first page had a message penned into it.

_Dear Clara,_

_As an English student, you appreciate a good hardback more than anyone. I bought this for you in case you ever needed somewhere to express your feelings, like a diary of sorts, or even just a scrapbook for your thoughts. Often, when you're in pain, it helps to write things down when it gets too much for you. Think of it as my way of being there when I can't be there._

_The Doctor x_

Clara dived into him, holding him fiercely tight as he returned the hug. He was always so damned thoughtful, always able to know exactly what to say and do to make her smile. Just like this moment. They locked eyes and Clara felt that burning desire again, which she forced back down.

"I take it you like it?" he teased. "I mean, I wasn't sure that you would, after all, the engraved frontal pattern could be perceived in a modern way as a statement about the way that the division of…"

She put her finger to his lips to shut him up, rolling her eyes and punching his arm playfully. "I love it you idiot," she informed him, removing her finger as he grinned. "It's so thoughtful. You know for a man who claims to have had very little meaningful human interaction, you're very good at it."

"Aha, I'm really not," he laughed. "I don't understand people Clara, I understand you. There's a huge difference between the two. For instance, why exactly is Ring of Fire, called Ring of Fire? I mean, there's no fire involved…"

He had begun ranting again and Clara listened attentively for a few minutes until her dad called them in for breakfast and the Doctor finally stopped talking, catching himself. Clara didn't even mind that half of what he said was gobbledegook, because he was so passionate about it. His eyes were alive, his voice full of enthusiasm and his ability to make the everyday boring stuff seem significant was an attribute that Clara truly loved. Though she could never admit it to herself, as the idea of loving the Doctor was one that she wasn't prepared to accept. In fact, it was one she was trying to fight at all costs.

* * *

Her father had been right about Christmas dinner. Having the Doctor around was a huge relief. Her grandmother would be there at five, so dinner was at six, but Clara heavily suspected dinner would not have happened without the Doctor guiding her and her dad into not messing everything up. When her grandmother arrived, she introduced the Doctor and he made an instant impression by slipping on some wrapping paper that was still lying around when he raced forward to shake her hand, resulting in him ending up face first in the carpet. Her dad rushed to help him as Clara burst into laughter and her grandmother joined in, the Doctor mortified as he brushed himself down and finally shook her hand. They settled down for dinner, as the Doctor faced an interrogation about his relationship with Clara. Clara felt herself burning with embarrassment but the Doctor managed to stay friendly and joke along, despite the obvious awkwardness and inability for him to latch onto normal conversation. On more than one occasion, Clara found herself bailing him out on more than one occasion and she found herself increasingly grateful that nobody had mentioned any dead parents. The Doctor squeezed her hand with his under the table. It was another odd gesture, even by his standards but she appreciated it and squeezed back.

"So how're your assignments going Clara?" her dad interjected eventually, Clara's relief at the change of subject visually obvious. "Still acing it, as ever?"

"Mostly firsts," Clara replied, trying to act casual but aware of the fact that that was exceptional. "Low 70s," she qualified. "A few 2:1s, mainly in philosophy because Holmes has it in for me…"

"He doesn't have it in for you," the Doctor butted in. "He's just a fairer and slightly harsher marker. Just because the puppy dog eyes you keep giving him aren't affecting your grade. He's a great lecturer."

"Oh you know I know he's a great lecturer!" Clara responded, as her dad and grandma exchanged looks. "But all I'm saying is he never gives anyone a first. Ever! Oh don't you even!" she glared furiously at the Doctor. "What did he give you?" she asked in a dangerous tone. "You've never told me, you just agree with me when I complain about my 68."

"Oh it's not important!" the Doctor insisted, wilting under Clara's stare. "81," he muttered, so low that he hoped she wouldn't hear. Clara's eyes widened and her stare went full on murderous, the Doctor shrinking as another look was exchanged between the adults. "Look, he said my essay was the exception to the rule, but yours was pretty awesome, I read it."

"You read my essay?" Clara spluttered. "When?"

"Oh he was showing me some of the other good efforts, people he thought to be well above average," the Doctor informed her. "Said they could learn a lot from me."

At this point, Clara threw her cracker at the Doctor's head and he ducked, shrugging as she muttered curses under her breath at him. Her dad was now struggling not to laugh, and her grandma was making no such effort, cackling into her mash potato. Clara stabbed at her turkey with her fork, shooting the Doctor dark looks that were simply unsustainable. As Clara lapsed in her attempts to be angry, the Doctor had started an animated chat with Clara's father about the government, a topic that made Clara roll her eyes. She turned to her grandmother, who was still eyeing the Doctor.

"He's very handsome," she informed Clara, who smiled despite herself. She found herself unable to disagree with her grandmother, despite the Doctor's very unorthodox appeal. He straightened his purple bow tie and winked at Clara, who smiled at this. "The bow tie rather completes the look, don't you think?"

"I bought him it," Clara said absent-mindedly, focusing on the Doctor rather than the conversation. "Christmas present. I thought it would suit him."

"Of course it suits him love," she chuckled. "I remember the first time I bought your grandfather a tie, he stomped and huffed and spent the rest of the day sulking that he didn't want to wear it. But of course, as soon as it was around his neck, he was unable to take it off. Men are so stubborn Clara, never forget that."

"Of course Gran," Clara responded, used to her grandmother's rants about her husband. Clara had loved her granddad when he was still alive, he was a very funny and caring man who would sweep Clara up onto his shoulders and give her piggyback rides across Blackpool and sneak her ice cream and sweets when her parents weren't looking. He'd died when Clara was six, but then grandparents often did and Clara had been able to move on. It wasn't the same as…

"Are you alright Clara love, you're awfully distant," her grandmother was saying.

"Yeah, fine!" Clara beamed, a fake smile that earned her a look off the Doctor. "I was just thinking about Granddad and…" She couldn't bring herself to say her mum's name and felt a sob choke in her throat. Her smile was still plastered on her face and despite the interest from her dad and grandmother, neither of them saw through it. He did. Of course he did. The Doctor always did. His hand had found her knee straight away and he rubbed her thigh calmingly. Another odd gesture that felt nothing more than kind and reassuring coming from him. Clara shot him a glance of appreciation and focused on eating.

"What Clara means is that she loved her grandfather a lot," the Doctor took over, leaving her relieved and grateful. "She spoke about him often, always affectionately. He sounded like a great man."

"He was a good father," her dad said with a smile. "Not so great as a husband, if you believe what Clara's grandmother says."

"He did his best," her grandmother piped in. "He was very caring, always doing what he could. But he wasn't very good at those sorts of things. A lack of domestic skill is a trait he passed on to you two!" she cackled, indicating to Clara and her dad who spluttered and complained, as the Doctor resisted the urge to laugh. "Well you're not telling me that the Doctor didn't cook this turkey? It's utterly sublime."

Clara knew she should have felt insulted but instead she giggled, as the Doctor thanked her and Clara and her father shared a look. Clara liked to think she was a half decent cook, but the truth was quite the opposite. She could manage to cook for herself, but whenever she and the Doctor shared meals that weren't takeout, he insisted on cooking, or at least guiding her through it. At least she had other attributes, she told herself. Her culinary skills may not have been up to scratch but her father was even worse. He was utterly useless at cleaning or washing or cooking and she wondered how he managed without her all this time. Then, she had a thought. She had been blind. Oh so blind. Clara turned to the Doctor and tugged at his jacket nervous, anxious to have her theory unconfirmed.

"Doctor," she whispered as he turned to her with a smile. "When we first arrived at the house, what did it smell like to you? I mean, the general houseness of it all, not my room. My room always smells of a combination of deodorant and underwear," she blushed upon realising what she'd said and he pulled a face.

"Lavender," he replied cautiously, a strange look coming over him. "And a hint of jade, I have a very good nose for this sort of thing and an even better memory, where are you going with this Clara? Your dad has good taste in fabric softener."

"We don't use fabric softener!" Clara hissed. "And our air freshener smells like pine needles. It didn't smell like my dad's useless cleaning, it smelt like…" she couldn't say it. She wouldn't. "And then there's the tea. We've had orange and cranberry tea in the cupboard since we got back. My dad is not a big tea drinker and he didn't buy it for us, because we had a lengthy conversation while he was shopping the day before we got back and he didn't mention tea."

"So he probably had a cleaner come round," the Doctor tried frantically, but she knew from the look in his eyes that he knew she was right in her suspicions. "Clara, you should talk to your father, after dinner!" he added in a low voice. "Clara, Clara!"

Despite the Doctor's protestations, Clara turned to her father and stared at him for a moment, taking in a deep breath. "Dad," she said quietly, barely able to keep a level voice. "Are you seeing somebody?" His face said it all. Her head pounded like someone had hit her with a hammer and her heart sank to the floor. She felt a choked sob rise up, replaced by anger and betrayal. She stumbled to her feet, as her dad rounded on the Doctor.

"You told her!" he snapped accusingly. "You promised not to say anything!"

"Your daughter is extremely bright and resourceful," the Doctor replied angrily. "She was always going to work it out herself. The only reason I didn't tell her myself was to spare her this. I was hoping she wouldn't realise. Clara, look at me. I'm sorry, Clara come here."

The Doctor was on his feet, edging towards her carefully, his eyes meeting hers and they were hawk-like. She had never felt so angry or betrayed. The Doctor had known all along and he'd lied to her. Her father had betrayed her mother and he'd roped the Doctor into it as well. Her grandmother was saying something but Clara was staring at the Doctor. She couldn't bring herself to look at her father, who was shifting uncomfortably but the Doctor she couldn't stop looking at. He was staring back, their eyes constantly shifting in a non-verbal battle. He was sorry, she knew that much and concerned for her. But that wasn't enough. She tried to look away but she couldn't, so she kept moving backwards until she was out of the room and only then could she tear her eyes off the Doctor long enough to run up to the safety of her room. She slammed the door behind her, throwing herself onto her bed, unsure what to do other than scream. After a few moments, there was a knock on her door. She smiled despite herself. Out of all the people downstairs, she knew exactly which one it would be.

"Clara? I'm coming in."

She didn't try to stop him. She didn't want to stop him if she was honest with herself. She needed him at this moment, to vent at. Someone to scream at until all her anger was gone. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. As he sat beside her, squeezing her hand with his and then pulling her into a huge hug, she found herself crying on his shoulder.

"I am so sorry I didn't tell you what was going on Clara," the Doctor whispered. "I worked it out the day we got here but your dad begged me not to say anything to you. As I said at dinner, I knew this would be how you reacted, and I wanted to protect you from this. I did this for you, not your dad. But he feels dreadful you know. He didn't realise how betrayed you'd feel."

Betrayed. Clara allowed herself a moment to appreciate that at least her dad understood what she was angry about. "He never realises," she said stiffly, sitting up and stifling tears. "That's the whole point. He only ever thinks about himself and never really understands how his actions will affect me. Even when he's trying to do what he thinks is best for me; he doesn't even have a clue what is best for me. He doesn't really know what he's doing, he doesn't know how to be a parent anymore." There was an edge to Clara's voice and the Doctor tried to soothe her. "I've tried so hard not to be angry at him, not to blame him for everything that went down," she continued. "But he keeps making things worse. Can we stay up here?" she pleaded and the Doctor nodded. "I just want to stay up here and talk about nothing, until I can find a way to process this."

Clara curled up into a ball and slotted her body against the Doctor's. They sat like that for what seemed like an age, talking about nothing and everything, before she eventually drifted off to sleep…


	9. Chapter 9: Jessie

***Hello everyone! Lots to resolve in this chapter and some of you are going to hate me for a manoeuvre I make here. But, I need to keep the story moving towards the point where I meant to start it (yeah I've written about ten chapters more than I meant to already whoops) and that involves some backburning of the Whouffle for a few chapters. I hope you enjoy and as ever, thanks for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting. TPD***

* * *

The Doctor felt that the best way for Clara to resolve things with her father was to talk to him. Clara disagreed. Vehemently so. To the point where she didn't say another word to her father until they headed to back to university shortly after New Year's, communicating solely through the Doctor. The passing into 2014 itself was uneventful, the Doctor and Clara had a glass of champagne and nothing more. Clara was trying hard not to look for the solution in a bottle of vodka and the Doctor was determined to help her. However, she made it very difficult. Whenever he mentioned the idea of her talking to her father, she would clam up, giving him one word answers and refusing to respond in a positive way until he made a very abrupt subject change. Her point was taken, no mentioning Dave. He called her and tried to Skype her occasionally, but Clara wasn't interested and made no attempt to engage with him. When they were back at uni, Clara became dangerously involved in her work, working overtime on essays and the like that she'd already perfected several times over. The Doctor knew it was another coping mechanism but she'd started to shut him out as well, seemingly determined to let nobody in.

It was one evening in late January when she finally knocked on his door, at around 8pm, to apologise. The Doctor opened it and she was stood there in the corridor, her brown eyes swirling, her hair straight as a pin, a gorgeous black dress hugging her figure and more than a touch of makeup splashing her face. She was holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a cactus in the other. The Doctor wiped his oily hand on his waistcoat, smiling at her warmly as he let her in. Her own smile was apologetic and swimming with emotion.

"Dinner?" she asked quietly, earning her a strange raised eyebrow. "Listen, I've been a total bitch recently, I know that. I've been unhealthily obsessed with H.G. Wells and George Orwell and we've not really been able to spend that much time together these last couple of weeks. So I want to make up for that. So you, me, dinner, I'm already dressed for it!" her voice had a pleading edge but the Doctor stayed quiet, nodding at the cactus.

"What's with the cactus?" he asked, his voice teasing so she knew she was forgiven.

"Well your room is a bit dreary," she pointed out. "This is an apology cactus. A house plant present to say I'm sorry. Please don't make this anymore weird and awkward than it already is. Just take the damn cactus. And try not to kill it. I know killing cactuses is pretty damned difficult, but if anyone can manage it, it's you. Doctor, come on throw me a bone here."

"A bone?" he looked confused. "I don't have a bone. I do have a spanner, I could throw you a spanner. Oh wait, that's a metaphor. Goddit. I'll try to remember to feed the cactus, what do they eat? Oh of course, water, never mind. Clara Oswald, dinner sounds wonderful. Let me change, I'll join you in ten minutes. Keep the wine, we can drink it later."

Clara positively beamed as she handed him the cactus and skipped out to put the wine in the fridge to cool. The Doctor grinned to himself as he gave the cactus a prize spot on his window sill. He practically ripped off his waistcoat and rumpled shirt as he delved into his wardrobe for the good tweed. He rummaged around looking for his black bow tie and then remembered something. Biting the inside of his cheek, he snatched his phone off the bedside table and thumbed a quick text, which he sent.

_We're off._

* * *

Clara looked gorgeous, he had decided. But then she always did. The restaurant she'd taken him to may not have been fancy, but it did the job and the Doctor had been starving, truth be told. She had clearly been trying to tell him something, but he chose the rambling science talk that she didn't understand over listening to her admit deep personal feelings. As much as the Doctor wanted to be there for Clara, he had come to dread the conversation where she admitted that she was seeing someone. This had made him remarkably tetchy, but she didn't need to know that. He was hiding it from her well.

"So I talked to my dad," Clara said eventually and the Doctor breathed an inner sigh of relief. "He said he was sorry for lying to me and that he wanted me to be okay with the fact that he was seeing someone. As if I ever could be," Clara spat, emotion pooling over and the Doctor felt his hands shoot across the table to clasp hers, a gesture that she accepted. "Her name is Mandy," Clara choked. "He wants me to meet her and get everything off my chest. I tried to tell him that this wasn't about lying or meeting, but he told me that my mum has been dead for almost three years, as if I needed reminding. Well good for him for moving on," Clara said bitterly. "But I'm not going to play nice with Bitch-Face Mandy and I'm not going to let him think I'm okay with it."

"Clara, he's trying to reach out to you," the Doctor said quietly, not wanting her to explode publically. "I know he cares for you and he just doesn't realise the mistakes he's making. Clearly, the two of you are dealing with this differently. It doesn't mean he doesn't love your mum, or that he's forgotten her. He just may need someone. Just like you need…"

"I need my father," Clara said, her voice deathly quiet. "If he needed someone, I was there. For two and a half years, he's had the chance to talk to me, we both needed help. But clearly, he'd rather find salvation in some bimbo's knickers than in raising his own daughter. I know you're trying to help me Doctor, but please don't try to defend him." He felt shit after that, smiling and returning to his dinner, retracting his hands. Clara bit her lip.

"I'm sorry Clara," he said eventually.

"No," she implored, standing at this point, and wrapping her arms around him from behind despite stares before she hurriedly sat down blushing, the Doctor's heart beating rapidly. "I'm sorry. That was horrible and bitchy of me. It's not fair of me to take my anger out on the one person who has been there for me these last few months. It's just been so rough, you know?" She downed what was left of her wine, shooting the empty glass a look of regret and turning back to the Doctor. "I have been so bitter towards my father that I've been focusing on the wrong things," she continued. "And from now on, I'm going to try and live my life. With you, with my friends. You know we need to sort out a house or flat for next year?" He nodded apprehensively. "Well we should have started looking months ago but I dunno about you, I kind of assumed we'd live together, you and I and that a two person house would be easy to find. You with me?"

"Clara, of course I'm with you," the Doctor smiled and she visibly relaxed, her shoulders sinking and the Doctor promised himself that he'd massage them later. "Now, let's get out of here and finish that wine."

As Clara left the restaurant, the Doctor found his eyes lingering on her tight dress for slightly longer than he intended and he scolded himself. The sooner he put such thoughts out of his head, the better for both of them. He checked his phone, not even realising there had been a reply, which he thumbed open and read quickly, not even feeling a shred of regret.

_Too bad. Another time._

* * *

"This is the one!" Clara called from the bathroom as the Doctor rolled his eyes. He'd heard that before, half a dozen times that day. "I mean it this time!" she added crossly, as if she could see his eyes rolling into the back of his skull. He snorted with laughter at that. He'd heard that half a dozen times before as well. Clara stuck her head out from the bathroom and glared at him. "I'm serious Chin, we need to put a deposit down on this place."

"If you say so Soufflé girl," he replied, allowing himself a smile but not a chuckle. He'd taken to calling her Soufflé girl after Clara had woken up one morning a few weeks previous and announced that she was going to make her mum's perfect soufflé. She'd tried every day since and was yet to perfect it. The Doctor would never get tired of watching into the kitchen to a batter-covered Clara swearing loudly as she sprayed herself with her electric whisking. He had supposed that this was a better coping mechanism than alcohol and overworking herself, so he let her get on with it, aware of the fact he could replicate the soufflé recipe she loved so much on his first try.

"I do say so," she pouted, stumbling out of the bathroom and wrapping her arm around his, smiling warmly at the person from the company showing them around. "We'll go to your office and do all the documentation now," she said, earning her a raised eyebrow from the Doctor. The flat was one story, with two bedrooms and one bathroom, plus a small kitchen. But it was cheap, had what Clara called character and none of the wallpaper was peeling off, damaged or mouldy. Plus, the bedrooms were lovely, the Doctor admitted.

"Of course," replied the young saleswoman, smiling politely and gesturing between the two. "And might I say, you two make such a cute couple."

"Oh we're not together!" Clara said quick as a flash, as she and the Doctor practically leapt apart. The woman rolled her eyes and chuckled, as if she knew something they didn't. Clara smoothed down her skirt and followed, shooting the Doctor an apologetic smile. The Doctor reckoned sooner or later it would stop feeling like a burning hot knife to his abdomen when she said that. Or at least, that was what he hoped. He remained slightly quiet and subdued as he and Clara were talked through the paperwork. Then, it was all signed, dated and done. They had a flat together. But they were not together. The Doctor, for the first time in his life, understood Clara's need for a drink.

* * *

Clara hated her Modern World lectures. Most of her English course was fascinating, but the modern section bored her to tears. She usually sat on her own near the back, trying hard not to fall asleep, assuming she even went. She made occasional notes but mostly fought back the urge to throw things at the arrogant tosspot of a lecturer. She was sat in one such lecture, nearer the front than usual in the almost abandoned lecture theatre, as most students did ditch these lectures, when a piece of paper struck her in the back of the head. She whirled round, eyes flashing in anger and she spotted the boy who was responsible. His dark hair was tousled and his soft, boyish features were pulled into an apologetic smile as he raised up a guilty hand. Clara's eyes narrowed to slits and he scribbled something on another bit of paper, this time throwing it more gently and Clara caught it, unravelling it.

_Sorry, was aiming for Tosser, couldn't resist the urge. Got my aim a bit off. Name's Jessie. X_

Clara smiled despite herself, scrawling a response on the paper, explaining her sympathies lay with his attempts to hit Tosser, but she couldn't help but think that was just an excuse for Jessie to make his acquaintance and that she had no intention of revealing her name. She threw it back with a smirk, keeping an eye on his face as he unfurled the paper. He pulled a face that looked halfway between a frown and a smile and then he snatched up his pen to respond.

Okay, you've got me. Truth be told, I've been trying to summon up the courage to speak to you for weeks, but I needed an excuse. You're very pretty and your handwriting is exquisite. Seeing as how you won't tell me your name, I'll have to call you Chocolate. It matches your hair and eyes perfectly, plus you're delicate and I want you. X

Clara visibly snorted at his flirting. The lecture ended shortly after and she walked past him, thrusting the piece of paper back at him as he scrambled to his feet. He was tall, she noted, taller than her or the Doctor, with long but strong legs and a body she couldn't possibly decipher as it was hidden under a jumper. She raised an eyebrow at him and decided to indulge him.

"My name," she informed him. "Is Clara. And I'm only telling you that because Chocolate is a stupid name and I would rather you called me nothing than that. You Jessie, are a massive flirt and I know what guys who are massive flirts are like."

"Oh," Jessie's lip curled as he slotted in alongside Clara to walk out of the lecture. "And what exactly are guys who are massive flirts like me like?"

"Well for starters," Clara smiled evilly. "They all think I'm delicate." She stamped on his foot and he howled in pain, stumbling as she carried on walking, a confident smile reaching her face and she giggled to herself. She turned a few corners and Jessie sidled in alongside her.

"Surprised?" he asked, his voice purring and Clara rolled her eyes. "Look Clara, you have a lovely name and I like you. You really are beautiful, that's not just some line. You're clearly bright as fuck, because you're here, doing a course that I love and as much as you think I'm just another guy looking for a cheeky fuck, I'd like to prove to you that I'm different. So, let me take you for a drink tonight?" She bit her lip. "One drink," Jessie's voice had turned serious and he stopped, so Clara stopped.

"One drink?" Clara asked quietly, allowing herself a smile. "You're paying?"

"But of course. I want to get to know the enigma that is Clara, with the pretty eyes and the lovely handwriting who always manages to drag herself to Modern World despite the fact that she hates it. And don't deny it, everyone hates Modern World. And I want Clara, oh she of pretty eyes and lovely handwriting, to get to know me. The jumper wearing buffoon who thinks she's in his league despite the fact she is out of it."

"One drink," Clara reminded him. "Seven thirty. The SU. I'll meet you at the bar."

"Sounds like a perfect date," Jessie smiled and it was a genuine smile, without a hint of the smugness that had permeated his very being up until that moment and Clara decided that when his smile was genuine, it lit up his face. It was a very pretty sight.

* * *

Clara found herself both very excited and very nervous as she knocked on Britney's door to ask for advice. She would normally go straight to the Doctor about these sorts of things, but Britney could help her decide what to wear and the like. In any case, the Doctor wasn't in, he was out with Ten and Rose, so it was left to Britney to fill that particular void. She felt bad going on a date without talking to the Doctor but she quickly scolded herself. They weren't a couple, so she had absolutely no reason to feel guilty for not talking to him. She wanted to talk to him, because he was her best friend and she was desperate to talk to someone, but she figured that she'd rather see how the date went first. She didn't want to get his hopes up if it was just a dud.

Britney emerged and when Clara explained her situation, Britney seemed taken aback for a moment before regaining her composure and squealing in delight. The moment of shock surprised Clara, did Britney really think she was that unattractive or useless around guys? But once Britney delved into Clara's closet, it became a question of making Clara look hot without looking like she was trying too hard. Clara wanted to wear a dress, but Britney reminded her it was a drink, not a prom. In the end, they opted for a tight red top and short black skirt, with tights and high heeled boots. Britney did Clara's makeup, subtle yet smoky and then backcombed her hair slightly so it was bigger than normal. Clara felt a bit odd, but had to admit that Britney knew what she was doing. She hadn't overdone it, but she still highlighted Clara's features perfectly and made her look, well almost attractive, Clara was willing to concede. As Britney left her room, Clara checked her watch. 18 minutes past and it was a ten minute walk. She supposed she ought to head off; she didn't want to be late. She grabbed her satchel, which contained her purse, phone and keys and headed out, locking her door behind her.

Clara had just left the building when she bumped into the Doctor. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw her, but she didn't notice this in the late evening dark. It was still only February, so the light wasn't great. He straightened his bow tie and smiled warmly at her. She thought it was a warm smile, it was hard to tell.

"Clara," he greeted. "You look refulgent!"

"Thank you," Clara replied with a chuckle, raising an eyebrow. "I think. You're home awfully early, or did Rose send you home so she could drag Ten out for dinner again?" His face said it all. "Damn, I'm sorry to hear that. Listen, I've got some awesome news for you, I've got a date! I'll tell you all about it later, but it's with this guy Jessie from my course. I'm going to be late, so I'll catch up when I'm back!"

She saluted him affectionately, unable to see his face clearly in the dark but she saw his responding salute and she scooted past him, unable to see the crumpled look on his face. He had stopped dead in his tracks, as she strolled off, fighting the brisk wind with her leather jacket. The Doctor had managed to carry on breathing, but he wasn't sure how. He kicked the wall in anger, transferring some of the splitting pain that had his chest in raptures to his foot. He staggered inside, putting on a brave face as he raced down the corridor to his room. Only once he was inside did he let a yell leave his lips. He took off his bow tie, letting it fall to the floor and he slumped onto his bed. It was only a date he told himself. Only a date. The next few hours of waiting for Clara to return proved to be among the longest of the Doctor's life.

* * *

Clara was in high spirits as she left the SU bar, with Jessie insisting on walking her home. One drink had become two, two drinks had become three and three had become four. Clara was drinking diluted vodka lemonade, so it would take more than four over the course of several hours to get her tipsy, but she was glad of Jessie's company. In her life, Clara had only been on about half a dozen dates and none of them could be described as successful. She had started to think that maybe guys didn't find her attractive unless they were pigs or hammered but sure enough, Jessie showed her that there was more to him than just his tedious flirting act. His parents were Dutch and moved to England when he was tiny, because they had been fascinated with the English language. His mother was an English professor at Cambridge, which impressed Clara no end and his passion for books was unlike any she'd ever encountered. He was also very sweet, throwing the odd genuine compliment at her in the conversation, instead of just endless flirting one-liners like she had expected. He had worn a t-shirt this time and she could see his abs through it, a welcome sight to Clara's eyes.

As they reached K-Block, they hugged and he leaned in to kiss her cheek. Clara found herself giggling and cursed herself. They stood for a moment before Clara bit her lip and indicated to the door.

"Fancy a coffee or something?" she asked with a smile. "And no, this is not me trying to get you into my bedroom, I just feel rude making you walk all the way here without inviting you in."

"I'm a tea-drinker Miss Oswald," Jessie replied with a laugh. "But if you are offering, then I would most certainly oblige. I'm most anxious to see inside the wonder that is Marston's, being a Kendrick's boy and all that."

"Kendrick's?" Clara asked with a smirk, pushing open the door for him as they stepped inside. "I heard they were all wankers."

"You heard correctly," Jessie replied with a laugh as they strolled down the corridor, darting into the kitchen. "Well this is quaint," he smiled. Clara pulled out two mugs, flipped on the kettle and went over to the fridge to retrieve milk. "This kitchen is very small, there must be what half a dozen of you in here? How cute, we have twelve. It's a fucking nightmare."

"There's five of us," Clara told him. "Britney, Jack, Josie and…"

At this point, the And entered the room, offering Clara a salute and a wary eye at Jessie, before breaking into a smile and rushing over to shake his hand.

"Ahh, you must be Clara's gentleman friend," the Doctor grinned, Clara snorting with laughter and leaning on the fridge for support as her laughter built as he continued. "Jessie wasn't it? I'm the Doctor, Clara's eccentric flatmate and guidance counsellor. I'd ask if your date went well Soufflé girl but judging by the fact that you're making two cups of tea, I'd say the answer is fairly self-explanatory."

"Play nice Chin-Boy," Clara warned, punching his arm as she finished the teas and handed Jessie his. "Don't worry about him; he's just my best friend. And a physicist," Clara rolled her eyes as if this explained everything and Jessie laughed at this.

"How come he gets to call you Soufflé but Chocolate is off-limits?" The Doctor banged his head on a fridge shelf upon hearing this, earning him an exasperated look from Clara.

"Because, Soufflé is an affectionate nickname based on my apparent inability to cook a decent soufflé after over a month of trying," Clara informed him. "Whereas Chocolate, is a name based purely on the fact that I have brown hair and is a piss poor attempt at flirting with me. Plus, I did make fun of his chin."

"And frequently does," the Doctor muttered irritably. "Clara, where's my hydro-oscillator?"

"In your room," she replied. "Where it always is. Off you pop. He's a bit different, but he's the nicest guy ever," Clara explained as the Doctor grumbled and left. "I don't know what I'd do without him."

"Nicer than me?" Jessie smiled wickedly, moving in to kiss Clara.

"Yes, nicer than you," Clara replied. And then she accepted his lips.


	10. Chapter 10: Propping Up

***Hello true believers! Another day, another chapter and this one is a pretty brutal one for Clara (they usually are). If I do say so my self, we've got some good chapters coming up. Chapter 11 is very Doctor-centric, followed by a lull in Chapter 12 and then Chapters 13-16 are full of twists and turns and cliffhangers that will have you screaming. At least, that's the hope, they were emotionally exhausting to write. Anyway, it's March 5th in our world, so you know what that means... I hope you enjoy and pretty please with a cherry on top review, favourite and follow and a ginormous thank you to everyone who already has or even just reads. Much appreciated. TPD***

* * *

March the 5th. The day that as hard as Clara tried to forget, she never would be able to. That particular year, it fell on a Wednesday, which meant that Clara had lectures she didn't want to go to and probably some social event she was likely to bail on. She hadn't told Jessie why she'd wanted to avoid seeing him that day, but she made up a lie about plans with people that didn't exist. She hated lying to him, but it was pretty heavy to drop on a guy you'd only just starting dating that you were still an emotional wreck from the death of your mother, three years ago to the day. She didn't wake up that morning so much as she didn't sleep at all the night before, eventually throwing herself out of bed at around 9am, having been staring at the ceiling for hours, numb and tearful. She pulled on her onesie, wanting to wear nothing else in truth and looked wistfully at the shower. She needed some sugar before she could handle the hot water, as was her ritual on Mum day. Tea, shower, cry. And hit repeat. Normally, vast quantities of alcohol were consumed, but she already felt numb and sad enough without adding to those two variables.

She had come to expect the Doctor to knock on her door at odd times, so it was no surprise when he did so before she could make it out the room. She opened the door and fell into his arms. She didn't know whether he was expecting the hug but she knew how good his hugs were and she desperately needed one. He squeezed her tightly and she let her tears drench his beige tweed, pulled on over his joggers and t-shirt. The fact that he wore a crimson red bow tie, despite the fact he wasn't wearing a shirt had seemed ridiculous to Clara the first time he'd done it, but now it looked odd when it was the opposite and she found it difficult to imagine there was a time when he hadn't worn them. It was reassuring to see the red bow wrapped around his neck, a little piece of home.

"There's tea and crumpets waiting in the kitchen," he said, his voice as tender as could be. Clara felt a shot of gratefulness run through her and she nodded, her socked feet padding gently as they walked down the corridor. She didn't ask how he'd remembered. She didn't even remember telling him but she knew she had. The Doctor always knew. He'd known when she'd returned the previous month, shocked after a run in with the Master, that something had been wrong, even before she'd said anything. The Master had taken to trying to convert Clara against the Doctor every time he saw her, including some disturbing flirting techniques and the occasional threat. As far as Clara was aware, he hadn't tried anything else, but the threat was still looming over their heads. An explosion the other day had led to the Doctor admitting that he didn't expect the Master to try anything until the prototype was completed and that another slight miscalculation had set him back until May at the earliest.

"Thanks," Clara mumbled, as she nervously bit a corner of crumpet. The Doctor was an expert at many things, but buttering a crumpet was one of the few areas where Clara had him edged out. Mercifully, the crumpet was sufficiently buttered and her tea was the exact right temperature. Thanks heavens for small mercies, she told herself. On today of all days, it was the little things that got her through it. She wanted more than anything to visit the grave, but that just wasn't possible. She'd been with her dad the previous weekend and she'd sobbed her eyes out but this was the actual day. That always made things harder.

"What do you want to do today?" the Doctor asked tentatively. "I mean, is there anything we can do today?"

"You don't have to do anything," Clara said bluntly but not without kindness. "This is my cross to bear. This is my day to feel like complete shit. It helps sometimes to dedicate an entire day to feeling like you want your world to end, that way when the day is over; you've filtered it all out. Bitch-Face taught me that. The Bitch-Face therapist, not the Bitch-Face sleeping with my dad. He suggested bringing her along on Saturday, you know? I told him I'd rather spend the day in the coffin with Mum than with her. That settled that."

Clara had found herself increasingly bitter throughout the speech and by the end she bitterly wished that her tea was spiked with something stronger. Her fists had clenched and the Doctor put his hands on top of hers, which made her smile a little. She was prepared to listen to another one of the Doctor's 'be the better person' speeches but instead, he just said: "Fuck them. Today is your day."

Clara knew she'd feel better after a long hot shower and this proved to be the case. But sure enough, the whispers came at her from under the bed as she towelled herself dry. She could have a little bit, she supposed. Pulling out the vodka, she knew a couple of shots would just keep her ticking over. Keep her numb. Help her get through the day. One day. She could handle one day. She downed the shots, instantly feeling like she needed to wretch but more importantly, she felt numb. The searing pain was gone. She had told the Doctor she could handle going to lectures, but she doubted he believed her, so she snuck out before he had a chance to stop her. She realised that that would involve seeing Jessie, but she put on massive sunglasses and tied her hair up underneath a baseball cap so nobody would recognise her. She also sat right at the front, in a corner, where Clara Oswald never sat and rushed out of the lectures before anyone could accost her.

After a few hellish hours in which the pain returned, greater than ever and plaguing her every thought as Clara tried to concentrate on literature, Clara was done for the day and she crashed into her room, fumbling for the vodka and letting its sweet release wash down her throat and soul. A choked sob escaped her and she drank again, feeling her pain leave her and a haze slip over her vision. She heard him shouting her name again. Why him? Why couldn't he just leave her in peace for once? Clara drank and drank; time slipping away and she felt herself throw up but didn't care, as it just left room for more alcohol. Then, the bottle was gone. She hadn't drunk it all, it couldn't have all gone that quickly, but she couldn't think straight. It wasn't in her hand anymore. It was above her and she jumped for it, lashing out at whoever was keeping it from her. Strong hands were wrapped around her, and she felt herself being moved. She kicked and screamed, flailing desperately for the alcohol. She cursed and then she was lying down, more vomit flying, where she knew not. Clara felt something cold rush down her throat, but it wasn't vodka so she tried to spit it out, only for more to rush down until she swallowed. Then, she felt consciousness leave her.

* * *

Clara's head was fit to burst. Something was crushing her ankles. Her chest was broken. The middle one wasn't the common symptoms of a hangover or broken heart, she realised, sitting up. This proved to be a mistake as a splitting pain rushed through her upper half and she glanced at the clock. 3am. Well she had passed out some time before 7pm, so it was no surprise. The source of her leg crushing was a gigantic lump on the end of her bed. She groaned and tugged harshly at her duvet, causing the lump to roll and splutter as it hit the ground. Clara felt a shot of guilt rise up among the bile and she turned to vomit into the bin someone had strategically placed by her bed. She guessed that same someone was the one who had put her to bed, taken her vodka, forced water down her throat and stayed on the end of her bed to look after her. She'd be absolutely stunned if that lump that she'd just thrown to the floor wasn't wearing a bow tie.

"You're awake then," the Doctor noted, rubbing his head as he picked himself up. "I did wonder if I would be rudely interrupted from my dream. I was having an excellent one involving a cactus called Jack and a kangaroo, also named Jack…they were trying to get to Tibet in time for Winter…I'm rambling again aren't I?"

"A little," Clara admitted. "What the hell did I do last night?"

"You were a real state, even by your standards. You were sat in here, about two thirds of the way through a litre of vodka, screaming your head off, crying your eyes out and calling me every name under the Sun while I put you to bed and took your booze off you. Thank God you didn't lock your door, or you might have passed out in a pool of your own sick. You had been sick, but thankfully it was only on your carpet, it'll come out. How're you feeling?"

"Oh God," Clara was white as a sheet. "I feel wretched Doctor, and not just because of the hangover. It's not fair that I keep doing things like this to you. I just, I completely lost control of myself. I don't know what happened. It was just, my mum and the pain and it was all too much and I… I was such a bitch to you and I…"

By this point, she had curled into a ball and was sobbing relentlessly. The Doctor slipped into bed beside her and snaked an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder. She sniffed, trying to regain composure but everything, her mum, the alcohol, the Doctor, just washed into her like a wave of tears. She couldn't believe how much she'd let herself and her mum down by drinking so much and as a result, she'd been a colossal bitch to the person trying his best to help her. She turned and sobbed into him and they ended up falling asleep hours later, still wrapped up in each other's' arms.

* * *

"Oswald, can I have a word?"

Clara bit her lip. She had eventually woken up ten minutes before Professor Holmes' lecture and dragged the Doctor with her. They both looked like hell and had sat up front where people could only see the back of their ragged heads. The Doctor shot her a concerned look which she waved away as she stumbled to the front of the lecture hall to speak to Professor Holmes, who towered over her inadvertently. He couldn't look intimidating if he tried, with his lack of muscle and soft facial features, but he was so much taller than Clara.

"What is it Professor?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level, despite its croakiness.

"Oswald, I was a student once," he smiled warmly and Clara felt herself blush. "A long time ago and we've all been there. I once remember sat in an Ancient Philosophy lecture at 1pm, wanted nothing more than to run to the nearest toilet and vomit out the entirety of my stomach lining. I understood about half of what he was saying and went straight to bed afterwards to watch crap TV, seeking sympathy from my mum and nibbling at dry toast. The point is, being a student involves getting hammered. And sometimes, that means you have to miss a lecture. I know it as well as anyone. Go home Oswald. Go to bed. You look like hell and you're not doing yourself any favours by making it to lectures." She nodded, embarrassed and went to leave. "And Clara?" She turned back to him, his crooked smile reaching his eyes. "You're doing really well, keep it up."

"What did he want?" the Doctor asked as she met him outside the lecture theatre.

"To reprimand me for being out of bed," Clara replied with a smile. "And here I thought he was the type of guy who spent his entire university life sat at home on his laptop working. Turns out he was as much of an alcoholic as the rest of us. Who knew?"

"Clara," the Doctor looked at her deeply and she had to return the look. "Are you going to be alright?"

"I'll be fine Doctor," Clara said, as convincingly as she could. "Yesterday was just a bad day for me."

He couldn't stop looking at her the way she looked at him sometimes, the wounded puppy look. She kept saying that she was fine but the way she stumbled occasionally, her hand gripping his shoulder indicated otherwise. He hated the wounded puppy look when she gave it to him, so he tried to stop looking at her that way, but the truth was he seriously worried about her a lot of the time and yesterday had been one of the worst days she'd had in the time he'd known her. As they made it back to K-block, she looked at him, an abashed look that made the Doctor think she was building to something. She kissed his cheek and sighed heavily.

"I never thanked you," she said eventually. "For last night. I mean, once again, you were there for me when I was at my worst. You need to stop making a habit of it, or rather, I need to stop making a habit of it."

"Clara," the Doctor interrupted. "It was nothing. Really. Now, don't you have another date tonight with Mr Handsome?" The words bit into him, but he'd gotten better at saying them without gagging.

"I wish you'd stop calling him that," Clara chuckled as they strolled down the corridor. "His name is Jessie and he's arrogant enough without you building up his self-esteem. But he's a sweet guy Doctor and sweet is exactly what I need in my life right now. I did think about not going, but I can't let my emotions hold me back. I need to move forwards, right?"

"Exactly," the Doctor smiled. He just wished she was moving forwards with him. "You need me to help pick out a dress, or do your makeup or use the burny things? I'm getting good at using the burny things!"

"Doctor, they're called straighteners or curlers!" Clara laughed. "Whichever one you mean. And the last time you tried to curl my hair, you burned your hand five times, which admittedly is a marked improvement on the time before that. And no, I'm going to wear it up tonight, just some mousse. And no, I don't need you doing my makeup. I looked like an oompa loompa slut and believe me that is an achievement even by women of today's standards."

The Doctor smiled. He was used to Clara's gentle teasing; it was what made their friendship work so well. The day she hurt his feelings would be the day when she stopped teasing him about the little things. He nodded and went to unlock his own door but Clara grabbed his arm and pulled him back towards her, sending his heart racing as he raised an eyebrow.

"I don't have to get changed for hours yet you banana!" she giggled. "It's not even noon! How long do you think it takes me to get ready for a date?"

The Doctor sensed that there was no correct answer here so he should keep his mouth firmly shut and shrug in a non-committal fashion.

"Four hours?" he tried. Clara glared momentarily before rolling her eyes and throwing her bedroom door open for him. The Doctor thought he couldn't have been that far out, but she kicked him in the shins playfully as he followed her into her room and slumped back on her bed. She shot him an exasperated look as she sat on the edge of her bed.

"You really are a nightmare, you know that!" she informed him and he grinned at that. "It's part of why I like you. And I'm guessing you must think something similar."

"Who says I like you?" the Doctor replied, cool as a cucumber. Clara wouldn't be the only one teasing. "I could just be tolerating your company because I've had no friends for my entire life and it was this or a tin dog I made myself. Which would involve far less crying and drinking."

"The fact that you put up with the crying and drinking is exactly why you don't want the tin dog," Clara replied masterfully. "Let's face it, you're a Doctor. You enjoy fixing things. Fixing me is just another hobby of yours. Fixing a tin dog is easy, but fixing Clara Oswald," she snorted. "Now that's a challenge."

"You don't really think that's how I view you do you?" the Doctor asked quietly, crawling over to her and putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Of course not," Clara laughed, an evil look in her eye. "But the look on your face was priceless. Come here you big idiot!"

She pulled him into a tension-relieving hug and he couldn't help but pool over her words. Clara Oswald meant the world to him, but what if when she was fixed, when she was healed, she wouldn't need him anymore? What if the Doctor was just that, a Doctor? A way to pull herself onto her feet so that people like Jessie could sweep her off it? A whole new dimension of thoughts entered the Doctor's mind and he pulled out his phone as the hug concluded. Clara shot him a quizzical look as he put it back in his pocket.

"Nothing," he smiled warmly at her. "I'm just meeting Ten this evening when you're off on your date. Wanted to confirm timings, Rose is off on a girls' night."

Clara sensed he wasn't telling her the whole truth, but let it slide. It was only Ten, what was the worst that could happen?

* * *

"You seem distracted tonight Clara," Jessie said quietly, as she sipped on her glass of wine. "Is everything alright? I didn't see you in lectures today or yesterday."

"Yesterday was…" Clara phrased it carefully. "A difficult day for me. I don't really want to talk about it; I'd probably just scare you off. But I'm feeling a lot better now, I promise Jessie."

"Hey, Chocolate," He insisted on calling her that despite her protestations. "I just want to make sure you're okay, that's all. I can handle whatever fucked up shit is going on in my life; God knows I've dealt with my fair share of drama. But if it's something that you feel bad talking about, then we'll talk about how this is the nicest steak I've ever eaten. How's your chicken?"

"Dead," Clara replied with a nervous grin. "Thank goodness for seasoning. Thank you, for being so understanding. I really like spending time with you. I mean, I don't want to fuck things up."

"At this stage Clara," Jessie gave her his best smile. "I don't think anything you can say would fuck things up. I want you to be my girlfriend Clara; I want us to be exclusive. I mean, there have been other girls since I got to uni, but you're what we call in the business, a keeper. I know it's only been a few weeks and half a dozen dates but…"

"Yes," Clara said instantly, not even stopping to think. "I'd love that. I've not been a girlfriend for…" she racked her memory. "You know what, I don't even know anymore. Certainly since I was a stupid kid, who thought that the definition of girlfriend was holding hands with a boy."

"Well that stupid kid wasn't far wrong," Jessie told her, taking her hand in his soft grip. "I was wondering if you fancied stopping over at Kendrick's tonight?"

"You mean…" Clara's voice hitched in her throat and she found it hard to breathe.

"I mean whatever you want me to mean Chocolate," he said quietly and Clara found herself nodding. And that was the night that Clara Oswald lost her virginity.


	11. Chapter 11: Escaping the Orphanage

***Bugger the thing. I meant to upload this chapter a few hours but I got distracted by the North London derby (massive footy fan) and Insurgent (definitely read it, it's a great series of books) so my bad. So I promised a Doctor-centric chapter and that's what you're getting, so no Jessie and in truth, not a lot of Clara. Plenty of flashbacks to the Doctor's past as well, because I've been desperate to reveal more of his troubles. I really hope you enjoy what this chapter kicks up. I'm at a point of no return with writing because I am really really tempted to end it on Chapter 18/9 where I'm currently at. BUT if I do, I 100% guarantee a sequel so do not panic. As ever, please continue to read, favourite, follow and review and thanks to everyone who already has. TPD***

* * *

It had occurred to the Doctor that escaping the orphanage was not the sort of thing he should be celebrating. But Clara had promised him that he would have a proper birthday so a proper birthday he was going to have. It made him happy that Clara cared enough to throw him a proper party, but he wasn't about to celebrate what he did that day. Even though he knew what he did had been necessary, it didn't make it any less wrong. Clara woke him early, hammering on his door with a childish enthusiasm that the Doctor himself would have been proud of. Normal people found it difficult to sleep the night before a big day, such as their birthday, often tossing and turning and lying staring the ceiling. The Doctor was the opposite. Whilst he hardly ever slept, when it was a big day the next day, he never found it easier to sleep. So he had been in the midst of a very pleasant dream involving a planet where everyone wore animal masks when he was rudely awoken.

"Good morning Clara," the Doctor said upon opening the door, only to be barrelled to the floor by an onrushing tiny brunette hurricane. "I do like having a functional ribcage," he added with a grimace as she grinned sheepishly and pecked his cheek, sitting up and handing him a present. He pushed her off him playfully, so he could breathe. He tried to regain his composure as he found his feet and had the present thrust at him again. He accepted it and after a ten minute war with the wrapping paper, during which Clara spent the entire time on the floor rolling with laughter, he was in.

"Clara," he breathed. "This is…" Inside the box were three items. The first was a small bracelet, made of string with seven little cubes spelling out FRIENDS and Clara held up her own wrist to indicate she had one too. The second was a photo frame, with a picture of Clara and himself inside it, one of his favourite pictures of them and the third was a silver plague on a keychain, engraved with the words: _Doctor. Love always, Clara x_

"This is nothing," Clara assured him. "I just wanted you to know how much I value you as a friend and how much I love having you around. You mean as much to me as I do to you," she insisted. The Doctor doubted it. "I just wanted to repay some of the kindness for all the amazing things you've done for me."

"I'll treasure these gifts," the Doctor told her with a teary smile. "Always."

* * *

_9 years earlier…_

_The Doctor heard his name being called and rolled left to avoid the inevitable kick to the gut, which instead bounced off the pillow he'd strategically placed to absorb the blow. There was a snort of laughter above him and he leapt to his feet, throwing himself at the older boy above him. Punching and flailing until another voice said: 'Enough'. The boy, who the Doctor thought was called Gareth, threw the Doctor off him, the Doctor smashing into the wall before falling onto his bed. It was Jameson, one of the adults who worked in the facility who had spoken. _

_"Out of his room now, all of you. And Doctor, get dressed. Breakfast is in ten minutes, then you have therapy."_

_Ah yes, therapy. The Doctor smiled to himself. He'd told his old therapist almost nothing, this new one even less. He doubted he'd tell him anything today, but then, it was his day of therapy. Just a few more hours, and he'd finally be free. As long as everything went according to plan. Getting into the courtyard was just the first step, the easy step. The hard part was the giant, metal gates surrounding the complex. He searched his room, looking for the only set of clothes he wanted to keep. A pair of black trousers and a small black tweed jacket. The Doctor had long decided that he loved tweed, the look, feel and smell of it. The other boys would make snide comments of course, but they did that whatever he wore or said. There was no escape from the hell that his life had become. At least, not until today. _

_"Ah Rat!" sneered one of the boys as he entered. "How pleasant of you to join us. Here, have some porridge!" He hurled the bowl but, as usual, the Doctor dodged. He was in no mood for a fight, not today. He didn't respond, just sat as close to the door and to the nearest adult as he could, desperate today of all days to avoid confrontation. _

_"Morning lads!" sneered a voice as he strolled in, his smarminess seemingly infectious. The Doctor was already wolfing down his toast, desperate to get out of there before the Ringleader picked him as their target. Craig, the Doctor's only friend in the orphanage was nowhere to be seen. He was supposed to be up by now, this worried the Doctor. He wasn't going to leave Craig behind. "Ah, Doctor," the boy crowed at him. It always worried the Doctor when they called him by his preferred name, rather than some backhanded insult or worse his real name, Smith. "You're awfully quiet this morning. Finally ready to bow to our will?"_

_This would be the hardest part. The Doctor sacrificed all of his dignity and pride and nodded his head, smiling as brightly as he could at the other boy. _

_"Of course Ringleader. You are so far superior to me, that resisting you in any way would be completely pointless anymore."_

_The Ringleader stepped up, walked over to the Doctor and rammed his face into the table, crunching up his nose so it exploded, blood flying everywhere. The Doctor groaned in pain but did not resist. _

_"I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not, whelp," he growled. "But rest assured, it makes no difference. From this moment on, I own you. Understand? I'm sick and tired of you resisting me. No more. Or your little fat friend Craig will be squealing like a stuck pig, are we clear?" The Doctor nodded. "Good little whelp. Now off you run to therapy, cry on Daddy's shoulder." It was pointless trying to tell the Ringleader that the Doctor didn't cry, nor was the therapist like a father to him. It was pointless trying to resist when in a number of hours, they would be on separate paths forever. _

_Therapy was as boring as ever. The Doctor resisted every urge in his body to finally spill, to finally unleash all his anger and hatred and pain on the poor unsuspecting man who he would never have to see again. But he resisted. If he was going to die tonight, then at least he would die an enigma. The Doctor was different, they'd say over his gravestone. They'd never know that he was just like everyone else, a human boy with emotions, not this robotic form that they'd known him as. The therapist eventually let him go early, seeing that he was going to get nowhere with the Doctor that day. _

_The Doctor returned to his room and took a deep breath. He was finally ready. Two days earlier, he'd finally gotten away with sneaking into the gate house and changing the opening codes. If anyone tried to open the gates, they would find them locked. This was the only day where nobody was coming to the orphanage or leaving, he had triple-checked every schedule. Nobody would realise the gates were unable to be unlocked until too late. He crawled under his bed and pulled up the false floorboard where he hid the essentials for his plan. The numerous files he had pinched from therapy. The nail clippings, locks of hair and vials of his own blood he had been collating for months. The fake bones he had been collecting. Still, if he was going to fake his own death, might as well do it properly. Also there were the can of petrol he had stolen from the garage and the lighter that he had pickpocketed from one of the older goons at the orphanage. Even the coat he had stolen from an adult who worked security, so he could hide his face and body from onlookers. Everything was set. Craig knew the time they were acting, noon exactly. The Doctor glanced at his clock and took a deep breath. It was almost time._

* * *

As much as the Doctor loved Clara, he always found himself relieved when she admitted that she hadn't cooked and that they were going out for breakfast. It wasn't that Clara was a bad cook, so much as that occasionally he'd get food poisoning from undercooked chicken or her soufflés gave him diarrhoea. So she treated him to breakfast on his birthday, and he felt very uncomfortable whenever she mentioned the orphanage. She picked up on his discomfort, because she trained a careful eye over him.

"What's wrong?" she asked knowingly. "I thought this was the day you wanted to celebrate?"

"I do want to celebrate escaping that orphanage," the Doctor admitted. "But not what happened on the day. Clara, I wasn't entirely honest with you. When I told you I had no friends at the orphanage, that wasn't the truth. I did have one. A guy called Craig Owens, who was supposed to escape with me today, nine years ago. He was a great guy, a couple of years older than me. He was picked on almost as much as I and we stood up for each other. But…"

"What happened?" Clara asked him in a quiet voice, putting her hands over his.

"He died," the Doctor said quietly. "And it was my fault. I promised I'd take him with me and when push came to shove, I left without him."

* * *

_The Doctor littered the floor of his room with the files, pouring petrol all over them. Really, in retrospect the files weren't necessary but he'd collated them before he'd realised he could pinch the petrol without being noticed. Most of his room was made of wood anyway, it should burn fairly easily. He hoped the walls were thick enough that the fire wouldn't spread but it wouldn't matter anyway. The sensitive fire alarms would give everyone plenty of warning and chance to get out. He pulled the coat over himself, so nobody would recognise him and he opened his small window, checking the coast was clear before hopping out of it. He turned and lit the lighter, throwing it through the open window. The room exploded into flame, but the Doctor was already gone, skirting round the edge of the building. The fire alarm was going off already, which was good, the last thing he'd wanted was a delay for a multitude of reasons. The orphanage was a public building, so the fire alarm was connected straight to the nearby fire department, which would already be sending an engine to resolve the problem. It helped that there was an actual fire. A simple fake wouldn't do the job, the Doctor reasoned. He glanced into the courtyard, which was already filling with people. He shot a look back over his shoulder. No sign of Craig. _

_The Doctor cursed and ran back around the side of the building but the fire had spread quicker than he'd anticipated. The thick black smoke filled the air and the flames were crackling. The Doctor yelled Craig's name but his window was shut. He'd bailed. He'd left the Doctor behind. He was probably already lining up in the courtyard with the rest of the boys. The Doctor ran back round the side, aiming for the courtyard. Wrapped up in his coat, he skirted around the edges, hoping not to be spotted but at this point beyond caring. The fire engine pulled up at the gates. If they opened, they'd be shut the moment the engine was through and the Doctor would have no hope of escape. But, he'd changed the codes. The gate wouldn't open. By now, the firemen would have seen the fire's rate of escalation and calculated their only option. The Doctor moved slightly closer to the gates, hidden by a hedge. Sure enough, the engine reversed, revving up and then smashed through the gates, sending them crashing to the floor as they raced through the car park. The way was clear. The Doctor shot one last look back for Craig. It looked like the other boy had abandoned him. Well he was on his own now. The Doctor ran for the gates and the second he was through them, he felt freedom wash over him. But he didn't stop. He kept on running, until the black smoke filling the sky was in the distance behind him. _

* * *

"Doctor," Clara said gently, as his brow furrowed over and his body rocked at the memory. "I know you feel like leaving him behind is what killed him, but I'm sure that's not the case. Whatever killed him; you going back to stop it happening probably wouldn't have made a difference and probably would have killed you too."

She was right of course. Completely and utterly right. But it didn't matter. The Doctor had killed Craig, as surely as the Sun set in the west and rose in the east. He knew what had killed him and Clara was right, it wasn't the abandonment. It was the fire. The fire that had raised the orphanage to the ground, injuring several boys and killing Craig. The fire that he had started. His escape plan had murdered his only friend. And if Clara knew the truth, she'd already have left him. He was a coward, he knew that. Not just for what he'd done, but for not telling her the truth. Even now, he couldn't bring himself to say the words. To admit that his fire had been the cause of Craig's death. He let a tear fall. And this was the day he was celebrating. His 'birthday' would forever be the day he killed Craig Owens. And not even the beautiful Clara Oswald could fix that.

The Doctor stood and walked out on her, unable to look at her knowing what he'd done. Clara didn't follow straight away and he stood out in the cold, looking out across the small town. He heard the door to the shop open behind him and once again, Clara's hand was on his shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" she asked, her voice tender and it was almost as if she was giving the Doctor a choice.

"There was a fire," he replied, his voice even. "Nobody knows how it started, but we used it as a diversion to try and escape. Or at least, I did. I assumed Craig would be right behind. He wasn't. When the fire engine arrived, I used the diversion to slip through the exterior gates. I waited for Craig as long as I could but he never pitched up. I was selfish Clara; I thought he'd left me. It turned out; he never made it out of his bedroom. I saw it on the news later that day; he roasted to death in his room. And it was my fault."

Clara held him tightly, but none of her reassurances would make this alright. This could never be alright. Not anymore. She could never know the truth, or she wouldn't be being so kind to me. The Doctor's selfishness had got Craig killed, he wouldn't see the same happen to Clara. He couldn't see the same happen to Clara. But he was still too cowardly to tell her the one thing that would ensure that she stayed away from him. Those four little words: 'I started the fire' that were constantly on the tip of his tongue. He pushed her away, swivelling to face her.

"Stay away from me Clara," he whispered. "I'm toxic. And if you're not careful, you'll end up dead too. The Master is right, I'm dangerous."

* * *

_The Doctor had finally stopped running. It had all been for this, he reckoned. All to find his way back here. To his parents' house. The parents that were dead because of him. He slipped the key out of his pocket, the one possession that nobody had ever been able to take from him and unlocked the grand doors, pushing them open. There was a layer of dust over everything, but it was all his. Or rather it was all theirs, for it would never truly be his. He didn't deserve it, wasn't worthy. He made his way into a huge living room and switched on the huge TV, surprised that it still worked. Of course it did, he'd been paying the bills in secret from the orphanage. The people who worked there were always surprised by how much mail the Doctor got, but he kept on using his parents money to make it look as if people still resided in the house. Water, electricity, gas, television, internet, all intact. _

_"And in other news, a fire at an orphanage in East London has killed two young boys and injured several others," said the reporter. The Doctor's heart sank. Two boys. Not one. Two. "The current cause of the fire is unknown but it is believed to have started under suspicious circumstances…"_

_The Doctor switched off the television and threw the remote across the room. Someone had died, because of him. The fire was never supposed to hurt anyone, let alone kill another boy. The Doctor was a killer. A murderer. He kicked the sofa and started to sob. _

_It wasn't until a later report that the Doctor learned it was Craig who had died in the blaze. None of those that were injured had even remotely serious injuries but that didn't matter to him, not knowing what he had done. The police and fire departments were blaming a fault in the structure of the building for the fire, saying that it wasn't up to scratch; otherwise the fire would have been easily contained. But that didn't matter either. The Doctor should have predicted that. He should have realised that the building wasn't up to code, it never had been. Except in security, he thought bitterly. He had killed Craig, it was all his fault…_

* * *

The Doctor had run a long way, all the way back to campus. Being an accomplished runner, he doubted Clara would be anywhere close to keeping up with him, so he had bought himself a little alone time to cry and brood before she interrupted him again. It turned out that he had half an hour before she knocked on his door, opening it without waiting for a response.

"Doctor," she said tenderly. He glanced her way but ignored her. "I know you blame yourself for Craig, you think that makes you a killer, makes you dangerous. But it's also made you who are. One selfish and understandable act doesn't make you a bad person. How you react to it does. And since I've known you Doctor, you have been nothing but kind and selfless. You took a bad thing and you made it your life's mission to turn it into the best thing you could. You took a tragedy and you let it motivate you to be the best person you could be. And very few people would be able to walk away from something like that and become the person that you are today. That makes you special. It makes you a Doctor."

"It's ironic," he muttered. "That they always called me that. I shouldn't keep using it, but I like the way it sounds, the way it portrays me. Because I'm a vain, arrogant, selfish coward."

The string of brutal adjectives made him feel better, despite the fact that each punctuated word made Clara increasingly anxious. She threw herself down on the bed beside him and he frowned at her. He'd been trying to push her away, for her own sake, what was she doing?

"Doctor," she said quietly. "You are many things, but you are not those. Never those. Maybe a little vain," she said with a smirk that made him smile despite himself. "And maybe a little cocky, but you are not arrogant or selfish. And you are one of the bravest people I've ever met."

She hugged him and he smiled back at her. If only she knew the truth, then she wouldn't see him that way. But, because he was a vain and selfish coward, he didn't tell her. He just put on a brave face and pretended that he was good enough to be allowed in her company. And, when night fell, they went and got drunk and for the first time in his life, the Doctor managed to block out the image of Craig screaming as he burned.


	12. Chapter 12: Recovery

***Hello one and all. This chapter is a bit of a filler one and also one to try and move the time period forward as we cover quite a lot of ground here. I wanted to get first year over and done with rapidly but the next half a dozen chapters or so not only rapidly increase the pace of the story, but also take place over the course of about two weeks. Throwing in an early warning, there will be smut, violence and language plus some dark themes coming up shortly but not in this chapter. Quick note for my non-British readers (hello one and all) I have absolutely no idea how American/Australian or frankly any other grading systems work, they might be identical, but 70% is a 1st and it's the top grade you can get. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, let me know your thoughts on the story so far and some predictions for what is to come. Please review, favourite, follow and thanks to everyone who has done so already or is just reading. This time tomorrow, the Doctor and Clara's first huge argument... TPD***

* * *

Clara was running through the crowd of unruly English students until she crashed into the Doctor's arms, her smile bright as anything. He grinned at her, ruffling her hair as he did so. A few steps behind her, Jessie pulled himself out of the carnage and poked her shoulder. She pulled away from the Doctor and turned to her boyfriend, snogging him as he gave her the thumbs up that indicated that they would be still be at university together the next year. They spent a few seconds locking lips, as an embarrassed Doctor turned away, until Clara broke the kiss and turned to her best friend.

"I got a first!" she giggled, beaming from ear to ear. "Averaged 74 overall, even managed a 71 in philosophy, I can't believe Holmes gave me a first! How did you do Tall-Dark?" she turned to Jessie who was looking sheepish. "Not a first then?" she asked sympathetically and hugged him when he shook his head and muttered a low string of curses. She leaned up to kiss him and patted his shoulder. "You know first year doesn't count anyway, so it makes no fucking difference, I promise. Listen, now we all know we survived year 1, we need to go for a drink. Even you Chin-Boy!" she grabbed the Doctor who had tried to sidle away. "I wouldn't have made it through the year without you, so you're joining us whether you like it or not!"

"Clara, it's meaningless!" he retorted. "We all knew you were going to get a first and that I would average in the 80s and Jessebelle here wasn't exactly going to fail either!" the Doctor squirmed as Clara punched his arm and Jessie shot him an exasperated look.

"You promised you'd stop calling him that!" Clara hissed in a low voice. "Be nice!"

"And you promised to stop force-feeding me undercooked soufflés but once again at 9am this morning I was greeted with a very inappropriately named Chocolate Delight!" the Doctor snapped in protest. Clara's look silenced him but he still grumbled under his breath as they walked in the summer sunshine, aiming for the SU bar. As ever, it was packed with students who had made it through their first year and worried looking second and third years, who were yet to receive their results. Jessie went to order drinks, leaving Clara and the Doctor alone on the table, when they were interrupted by Harold Saxon, who shot the Doctor a poisonous look before smiling at Clara.

"Miss Oswald," he greeted, despite the filthy look she gave him. "A pleasure to know you'll still be around next year. I hope we can rekindle our relationship upon your return." Clara said nothing. "As for your pet, I hear you're still having problems with the prototype. You know I could help you with that, I know a thing or two about teething problems."

"The only thing you know about teeth is how to kick them out," the Doctor snapped. "Now piss off Saxon, we're trying to enjoy our afternoon. And rest assured, when the prototype is finished, you'll hear nothing about it. I hear you got an 82, how delightfully mundane. Must make you second in the class? Well you always were second-best."

This seemed to silence the Master but he went bright red and whispered something in the Doctor's ear that made the Doctor tense up instantly. He threw a punch in the Master's direction that didn't connect and Clara was on her feet yelling but Jessie had returned and stepped between the two men before the Master could respond.

"Fuck off," he said in a warning voice to the Master, who glared at the Doctor before two of his goons were behind the Master, guiding him away. "Are you alright mate? He's a nasty piece of work that one," Jessie growled, checking the Doctor over before they sat down.

"I'm fine," the Doctor said his voice even. "The Master is nothing I can't handle. Trust me."

"Doctor?" Clara asked quietly. "What did he say to you?"

"He asked me how the weather was," the Doctor lied, not even bothering to cover up the lie. "He said something vile about you Clara, and I wasn't about to let that fly. Sorry for defending your girlfriend's honour Jessie but you weren't around and someone had to."

"Don't apologise," Jessie replied, his voice equally dark. "I'm just glad you're always around her Doctor, otherwise there's no telling what men like the Master would try and do. Clara's lucky to have a friend like you." Jessie clasped a hand on the Doctor's shoulder and Clara squeezed her boyfriend's hand. "Now, let's have a toast. To passing first year!"

They raised their glasses in celebration and for a moment, they were all happy, with no signs of the dark horizon that was to come. That day was a great one for Clara, filled with happiness, drinking and love. She had found herself really falling for Jessie, who had been treating her like a princess in the three and a half months that they had been together. He had an easy going charm and a great rugged body and he had showed her pleasures beyond her wildest dreams. He also got along well with the Doctor, which helped ease her nerves. Having her boyfriend and best friend get along was important to her, and there was only one thing left to bother her. Her father. They'd been talking semi-regularly and he was coming to collect her in a few days' time, but she still refused to acknowledge Bitch-Face, who had become an increasingly permanent fixture in her dad's life, as far as she understood it. She also hadn't told him about Jessie, which would make things awkward when he arrived. Still, Clara had prepared herself for this, with a schedule all worked out.

"So," she clarified to the Doctor, the day before her dad was due to arrive. "We go our separate ways for a week or so. Then, you come up to Blackpool for a week before I spend two weeks at your place in London?" he nodded. "Then I spend a week or two at Jessie's house near Nottingham and he comes up to Blackpool for a while? Then, we move into our house back here? Does that sound accurate to you?"

"Sounds spot on," the Doctor accepted. "I'd spend the entire summer with you if I could, but your boyfriend deserves some kissy time, which I wouldn't dream of intruding on."

"Fucking, Doctor," Clara informed him with an eye-roll that made him wince and splutter, as he always did when they talked about anything vaguely sexual. "I fuck my boyfriend. Jesus, it's surely not that hard to say, even for you?" He didn't respond other than with mutterings and gestures. "Okay, apparently it is. I can't wait to see this mansion of yours," she changed the subject quickly. "It sounds incredible."

"It is pretty spectacular," the Doctor allowed. "But it can get terribly lonely, which is why it'll be great having you around. Ten's coming over all the time of course, but even if he doesn't bring Rose, it's never the same as having you to visit." Clara rolled her eyes again. "What does your dad think of Jessie coming to stay?" Clara smiled wickedly.

"He doesn't know," she replied. "But if he's going to continue to have sex with Bitch-Face then really he doesn't have a leg to stand on. And I have no intention of holding back, whatever happens."

"Clara," the Doctor urged but she had stopped listening to him, humming a tune in the vindictive way she always did when she imagined pissing off her father. The Doctor felt that she was being slightly hard on him. Clara didn't care. As much as she valued the Doctor's opinion on almost everything from the colour of her dress to what to order in a restaurant, she shut him out completely when it came to her father.

When her father arrived to pick her up, she made sure the Doctor was there. She smiled as her dad and the Doctor helped pack away her things, but it was a façade smile, the one that the Doctor knew so well. She spoke politely enough, but there was no warmth towards any of her actions towards him and the Doctor felt guilty that he couldn't do more to help Dave. He knew the man was doing what he thought was best and that Clara didn't understand that. But then, she had every right to be angry at him, the Doctor reasoned, even if not specifically for one little thing. If sleeping with another woman was the vice that Clara used as a channel for all her pent up anger towards her father for not being there since her mum died, then that was what she would do. It was no wonder that she was so stoically for it, whatever the Doctor or Jessie said on the subject. Jessie of course had discovered the truth about Ellie Oswald, they had been together too long for Clara to have not told him. It had been a teary evening apparently but Jessie had been there for Clara. The Doctor had felt a pang of jealousy when she'd told him, as if her mother's death had been a secret only the two of them had known. And now the secret was shared, he felt like he was sharing Clara. Not that she was ever his to begin with.

It was two days into the holidays when Clara first called the Doctor, crying down the phone unintelligibly and screaming until he eventually managed to decipher that Bitch-Face had been given a necklace by her dad that had once belonged to her mum. Clara, it turned out, had met Bitch-Face and been thoroughly rude to her, resulting in a tumultuous argument between her and her dad, the end result of which was a call to him, so he could listen to her scream her frustrations.

Two days after that, the Doctor made the trip up to Blackpool, anxious to try and help Clara patch things up with her dad. When he got there, the first person he met was Bitch-Face, who seemed actually quite nice when they started talking. Then, Clara had hurtled herself down the stairs at 100mph and glared furiously at him as if he was talking to the enemy and he'd promptly been dragged up to her room, at which point she divulged that Bitch-Face had now basically moved in with her father and there was no escaping her.

Dinner that evening had been every bit as tense as the Doctor had been expecting, with Clara looking murderous every time he said anything nice to Mandy (as the Doctor had taken to referring to her when Clara wasn't around and in his own head) or Dave and Mandy repeatedly trying to connect with Clara.

"It won't work," the Doctor to Mandy said one evening halfway through his visit, when Clara was out of the room. "You have to understand, she's been through a lot and acting like a petulant child is her way of coping. I've seen Clara try to deal with her mother all kinds of ways and believe me, one of the best ways for her is to pin it all on you. Maybe it's not fair, but it's the only way she can process it emotionally."

After a few days, Clara had thawed out slightly and, urged on by the Doctor, began to be civil to her father and Mandy. It proved to be a turning point and by the end of the week, Clara was much more like her cheery self, even in the presence of Mandy. The Doctor was grateful that they left Blackpool on a high, because it meant that she was much better company when they headed back down to London and the Doctor was very grateful for that. Clara was amazed by his house, the sheer size of it, not to mention the grandeur. The Doctor was forced to admit that his parents had been superbly rich and therefore so was he. Their deaths had paid off a lot; it was his trust fund doing the rest. Two weeks passed so quickly, it made the Doctor slightly upset. Clara loved every second of it, it seemed, with late night film sessions on huge TV screens, gourmet cooking peppered with takeaways and a library that often she didn't leave for hours, curled up with a good book while the Doctor did some occasional work.

When Clara left for Nottingham, the Doctor felt more than a touch empty. Since they'd become friends, it was the first time they'd spent a really significant amount of time apart and the month or so until they moved into their house together would feel like a lifetime to him. For Clara, it also felt like a lifetime, but in a totally different way. She had a month of almost perpetual sheer bliss, as Jessie took her mind away from everything except him. She was treated to romantic surprises left, right and centre and Clara had never felt more loved.

But, even a lifetime doesn't last forever. Eventually, the month passed and they found themselves reunited in their little house. Clara ran about, whizzing from corner to corner, shrieking cheerfully as she found new things that she either hadn't seen the first time or forgotten about. The Doctor helped Dave lug in her things after he'd brought in his own stuff and they all settled down for a few cups of tea. Dave was soon off, but it looked as if things had mellowed between him and Clara, which the Doctor quizzed her about.

"Oh you know," Clara smiled at him. "We had a really long chat about everything. I think he's finally starting to see things from my point of view. He apologised about the jewellery and about Bitch-Face but I get that he needs someone in his life that he can use to move on. Christ, I needed you and Jessie. He's not been a bad father; he just hasn't known how to best to go about patching things up with me, like I haven't been able to patch things up with me. Go on then," she folded her arms and pushed her empty tea mug away from her, warily eyeing up the Doctor's face. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Say I told you so."

"Okay, I told you so," Clara snorted with laughter at this and then pulled him in for a huge hug. "I missed you Chin-Boy, it's been way too long since I saw you."

"I missed you too Soufflé Girl," the Doctor replied, holding her tightly. "Now, shall we check out our bedrooms?"

"I believe we shall!" Clara beamed. "Seeing as you're loaded, first takeaway back is on you!"

The Doctor couldn't really respond to that, so when they stepped out into the warm evening air a few hours later, it was he who had the money in his pocket. Clara had wrapped up warmly but the Doctor snorted at this, wearing only his purple jacket. It was September, he had incredulously informed her, and it wasn't the time of year to wear a fluffy coat. She informed him that he was quite right about the month but quite wrong about the coat. Arm in arm, they strolled down the high street. They knew the area well as it was only a twenty minute to uni, so they knew exactly where they were going to get their food from.

Jessie's house was on their normal walking route, but he wasn't back yet, as Clara pointed out when they passed it. The place was bigger than theirs, because he was living in a house of six with some of his flatmates. He had given Clara an open invitation to come over whenever she wanted, an invitation she was planning on accepting. The Doctor felt a wave of sadness crash over him at this. He knew that having Clara around all the time wasn't necessarily healthy for him, but he really hoped that she wouldn't be gone all the time, as he found himself terribly bored when she was gone. Gone and lonely. He'd never felt lonely before, as it was impossible to miss what you didn't have. But loneliness stung him now, it had stung him during the month without Clara and the idea of it stung him. He had managed to stop the daggers penetrating his heart whenever she kissed Jessie in front of him, but he reckoned that was a temporary fix. Every so often she would say or do something that would send him spirally back into the oblivion that was loving Clara Oswald.

"What are you having?" Clara asked him, snapping him out of his reverie. "I really fancy the burger but then sausages are always good…"

"I'm loading up on fried chicken," the Doctor confessed. "It's my favourite thing in the world."

"Your favourite thing in the world?" Clara teased. "I thought that was me!" she giggled at this as the Doctor rolled his eyes. If only she knew. "Okay Bow-Tie, you can colour me convinced, fried chicken it is." He beamed at her as they ordered. "You know, eating with you all the time is really going to make me put on weight. It's a miracle I still fit this dress after a year of the Doctor. Weird isn't it? We've known each other nearly a year. Feels like so much less and so much more at the same time."

"Tell me about it," the Doctor agreed as their food arrived. "I mean, not that you're fat, because you're clearly not. You're the opposite of fat, skinny as a rake. Wait, that's not helpful either, I just meant that it's insane I've known you a year Closwald."

"Did you just shorten my name to Closwald?" Clara asked incredulously, her eyebrow reaching her windswept fringe. "Never, for the love of sanity, do that again, or I'll impale you with this chip fork. I'm not joking!" she stamped her foot impetuously as the Doctor shook his head, chuckling. "I swear to God Doctor…"

But he had stopped listening and was already walking off, munching on chips as Clara traipsed after him, throwing the chip fork so it lodged itself in his quiff. She went into a fit of giggles and spent the rest of the walk home a few steps behind him so she could keep laughing at it. Eventually he noticed and hurled it at her, but she ducked and he started grumbling. The Doctor continued to sulk once they were back and had finished eating, but stopped when Clara suggested Finding Nemo.

"I can't believe it was one of the first films we watched together," Clara noted as she settled in alongside him on the sofa in his bedroom. "It feels like oh so long ago now, pre-Halloween last year and everything. Before Jessie and my dad being a dick and everything. So much changes in a year. But, I just wanted to say, I feel so much better now." She looked at him seriously. "Because of you, Doctor. You helped build me up to the person I am today, with a functional relationship with my dad and a boyfriend. I finally feel like I'm moving on with my life and I no longer need booze to think about my mum without needing to cry. You've done so much for me this last year. And I love you for that, truly."

"Clara Oswald," the Doctor told her with a smile that lit up his face. "I have never been happier than this past year I have spent with you." Or more heartbroken, but he left that bit out. "You gave me a friend when I needed one and stuck with me throughout everything. I appreciate that more than anything. It looks as if we found each other at just the right time in each other's lives."

And with that, they curled up, watched Finding Nemo, and all was well.


	13. Chapter 13: Breaking Point

***Hello Stonehenge. Guess Who?! Ha. Sorry I'll stop now. Anyway, bit of info, I've reached Chapter 20 and decided the new direction I want the story to go in so it's not finishing any time soon! I have a few secondary characters I want to go more in depth. Annabelle who you meet soon is going to have a chapter from her perspective and there's a new character called Tom being introduced later on who I think you'll love. Plus, I want to see more of Ten. Let me know what you guys want to happen and think will happen.**

**In terms of updating, however, I'm back at uni so writing and posting times will be more sporadic but I'll continue to aim for between 3pm and 7pm GMT every day as far as possible for updates and I have a 6/7 chapter barrier in which to work with so hopefully it won't be problematic :) So, this is the first in a string of emotionally hard hitting chapters so get ready for heartbreak and cliffhangers in the next half a dozen or so. Sorry. So, this chapter includes an anniversary, a huge Whouffle fight and a soufflé. I hope you enjoy and as ever, please read, review, favourite and follow and thank you so much to everyone who has. TPD***

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"Red dress or blue?" Clara asked, holding each of them out in front of her chest. The red one was longer and more swishy but the blue held tighter to her body. The neckline on the red was plunging and less so with the blue. She could already guess what the Doctor's answer would be and sure enough, he only needed a glance to make up his mind.

"Blue," he replied, biting into a carrot stick and opening his mouth, letting the carrot roll of his tongue as he pulled a disgusted face. Clara rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to giggle. She skipped back into her room to change, excited but also nervous. It was October 18th and that meant it had been exactly 8 months since she and Jessie had first got together. It was less than that since they made it official and first slept together, but 8 months since their first meet and subsequent date warranted a celebration in Clara's book. Her first real, functional relationship and it wasn't falling apart at the seams. At least, not yet. She hummed cheerily to herself as she dressed, curled her hair and sorted out her makeup. Jessie was picking her up in about twenty minutes, so she opted against putting her heels on until he arrived, instead putting slippers on over her red toenails. She'd taken the Doctor's advice and gone with the blue dress and as she stepped into the kitchen, she saw that she had taken at least one person's breath away that evening. The Doctor's jaw had hit the floor and his eyes had nearly popped out of their head as they struggled to stay on Clara's face.

"Eyes front soldier," Clara blushed. "I take it I look alright then?"

"Alright would be a more than satisfactory adjective," the Doctor replied, finding his voice. "I prefer eloquent, maybe refulgent. You look distinctly above the norm Clara, both your own norm and the norm of humanity in general and please feel free to stop me at any time."

Clara allowed herself a giggle and swatted him with her handbag as she passed. She glanced at her watch one more time and checked her reflection in the mirror in the corridor.

"Don't stay up for my sake," she told the Doctor, although she knew she was wasting her breath. "I'll probably end up going back to Jessie's; I have a spare set of clothes and PJs there anyhow. He offered me a drawer there, so I've taken advantage of that. I think I should offer him a drawer here, to keep his stuff in, what do you think?"

"I think he lives like ten minutes away!" the Doctor replied in a slightly sharper tone than she was used to. "Why does he need a drawer? If he needs anything, he can just jog home and go and get it. You two have been banging for months, there's no shame in walking home wearing last night's clothes."

"Doctor," Clara couldn't help but feel stung by his comments but tried to be reasonable. "We're a couple and have been for a long time now, it only makes sense that we leave things at each other's places, proximity or no. We spend enough time together that it's silly that I should have to come back here to change or if I want to slip on a jumper or something. What's your issue?"

"My issue is that don't you think you're moving a bit fast?" the Doctor asked her, his voice tetchy and it didn't suit him at all. Clara whirled round so she could see him. He was frowning and looking very sulky. "I mean, you've only been together 8 months and suddenly you're together all the time and now you're planning on giving him a drawer. First a drawer, next thing you know, you two will be moving in together!"

"Doctor," Clara was wounded and anger was flaring up in her. "I don't know why you're being so unreasonable but 8 months is a fucking long time and I really love Jessie!" She hadn't realised quite how strong her feelings for Jessie were until she felt forced to defend them. To him, of all people. She glared at the Doctor. "So yes, I'm giving him a drawer, because I like the idea that his things are in my house. And yes, I'm spending a lot of time with him, because he makes me happy, really happy. I won't apologise for that. And maybe we will want to move in together sooner or later," her voice was betraying her now, high and cracked. She wouldn't cry with this much mascara on, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "And if my current flatmate has decided to be an arse, then maybe it's not such a bad idea for next year!" She wasn't entirely sure she meant it but it provoked a reaction.

"Oh, so that's how it is!" the Doctor snapped, launching himself to his feet. "You get a boyfriend and all of a sudden I'm just your flatmate, your expendable flatmate?" Of course not, but she was too angry to correct him. "I'd do anything for you Clara, and this Jessie guy is just using you for sex. You're nothing to him, a piece of meat to be played with."

Clara slapped him. Hard. He resisted it and she doubted he even felt it, but it felt good to hit him. He deserved it. He took a step back, looking more apologetic than anything and Clara suspected he was well aware of the fact that he had crossed the line with his last comments. She turned her back on him, not needing words to express herself as the slap had done that adequately. She refused to cry, she focused all her energy on rescuing her mascara.

"Fuck you," she whispered, the words seemingly hitting him harder than the slap, although Clara's hand stung from the sheer force of the contact. His cheek was red and his eyes betrayed him, he was hurt and as angry as she was. "You're supposed to be different; you're supposed to be the good guy. But you're just a bitter, petulant child who sees me dating Jessie as another boy playing with his toy. At least Jessie cares about me. At least Jessie loves me. Find another girl to fix Doctor, because this broken toy is out of here."

He looked utterly broken by this and he opened his mouth as if to say something but she shot him a look of pure poison. She didn't want to hear his grovelling. At that point, the doorbell rang and Clara wheeled around and shot out the house in a flash, letting Jessie kiss away her anger. She must have looked as angry as she felt because he held her tightly and soothingly stroked her hair as they kissed. When they broke apart, Clara walked, not willing to let on quite how shaken up she was. She knew that she'd said some very hurtful things that she didn't really believe to be true but it was the Doctor. She didn't dismiss the idea that she was just another broken utensil, like a microwave, but she doubted that that was what it was. But whatever explanation could there be? There was no other reason the Doctor would get so bitter and jealous. He didn't feel the way Jessie did, or he would have made a move long ago. He hadn't had someone relying on him before, Clara reasoned. He was angry because she was moving on, not entirely dependent on him. She just couldn't believe that the most selfless guy she had ever met was being so selfish and pig-headed.

Clara continued to let her anger cloud her judgment as she fell into step and quiet conversation with Jessie. She had no intention of telling him what was wrong, but she was seriously pissed with the Doctor and he must have gleaned that. The fact that she looked like she wanted to stab someone whenever his name came up in conversation was obvious and Clara had had her façade down around Jessie for too long to resurrect it in time. By the time they reached the restaurant, Clara had managed to erect the façade she had been neglecting for too long. She had let the Doctor weaken her resolve and look where that had gotten her. She was beyond pleasant to Jessie, but she didn't throw her heart on the line like normal. If she hadn't been so distracted, so angry, then she probably would have realised. She would have noticed that he was acting equally distracted. She wasn't the only one running in third gear.

"Clara," Jessie said quietly, just as dessert was arriving and the tone of his voice broke her façade. So gentle, so apologetic, so… Oh god. She recognised that voice. It was a voice she had seen a million times in films and television programmes. He was doing a perfect impression of it, his own façade well and truly erected. She let her mouth form an 'O' but she didn't respond so Jessie ploughed on. Ploughed over her heart. "We need to talk."

If there had been any doubt in Clara's mind what was about to happen, it vanished when he said those words. Universal code for "About to dump you". She couldn't believe how clichéd the prat was being. Panic gripped her, surrounding her on all four sides and she suddenly felt claustrophobic in her tight dress. She let her spoon fall back to the table, the slight chink earning her a look from a waiter.

"Listen Clara, you're a great girl." Fuck off. Fucking shut up you stupid… "But this isn't working out. Truth be told, it hasn't for a while and I think you knew it too." Could Jessie be any more of a trope right now? Clara had stopped breathing and felt shock numb her whole body. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not after she'd thrown the book at her best friend for trying to warn her about this exact situation. "You're just not inventive enough in the sack Chocolate, and I need a girl who can keep up with me." Clara felt sick. She thought she preferred it when he was a walking cliché, at least that didn't stamp all over her self-esteem. What little of it remained at any rate. "And, if I'm being brutally honest Clara, I wasn't entirely faithful. This last month or so, I've been sleeping with Martha, a girl I live with. Sorry love, but we're done here." If it was even possible, Clara felt even worse. Like she'd been punched in the gut repeatedly and left to die on the street. This was the second worst feeling she could remember. It didn't compare to that news, but it was still horrific in its own right. She felt tears swelling up and this time, she couldn't save her mascara.

Jessie stood up and walked out, leaving Clara alone to her tears. She didn't scream, or make any noise at all. She just felt broken. Completely and utterly broken. She barely registered the waiter handing her a bill for the meal and she placidly dropped her debit card on the tray, unable to form any thoughts except shock. The anger was gone, replaced with a numb pain. A dull, persisting drilling at her soul. Eventually, Clara realised her legs worked and left the restaurant, finishing the glass of wine in front of her. She found herself walking home to a pleasantly mild temperature, because it only rained in badly clichéd nightmares and films and she was very much awake. She found herself passing an off-licence and wordlessly pointed to the biggest bottle of vodka she could see, handing over her ID and money bluntly.

Clara wanted desperately to pretend that she was better than this, but she wasn't, as she trudged home, swigging from the bottle and desperate to feel something. Normally, she drank to forget her pain, now she just wanted to feel anything. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to hate Jessie, to hate the Doctor, to be done with both of them. She wanted her mum. There it was, there was the pain. She screamed now, a loud blood-curdling shriek that earned her a few choice looks. She knew how she looked, a teenage alcoholic staggering down the street, bottle of vodka in one hand, yelling at the world. The perfect representation of student Britain. But she didn't care. She came to a staggering halt halfway across a bridge and for the briefest of seconds, she considered joining her mother. But she couldn't. She didn't have the guts. She took another swig and smiled at the feeling in her stomach as she wretched. She drank and drank and drank and the bottle was gone before she reached home.

She stepped onto her porch and considered. If she entered, the Doctor might ignore her. Or he might step out and see her a wreck. She didn't know which one she preferred at this stage. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of proving him right and she hated the idea of giving him what he wanted, a broken Clara for him to patch up. But equally, she needed someone, anyone to talk to, to cry on and to help her. And she had nobody else. Her mum was dead, her relationship with her dad was fragmented and her boyfriend had just sprinkled shit all over her heart. But she had too much pride to go crawling back to the Doctor. She opened the door, ready for a fight. Her façade was geared up, her face a mask. For a girl who had downed an entire bottle of vodka, she felt remarkably sober and it wasn't until she crashed into the kitchen that she saw it. Her mum's soufflé, sitting on the counter top. All those months of trying to perfect it and Clara hadn't once managed it. But she knew before she took a bite out of it that the Doctor had. He'd known all along how to make her perfect soufflé and he'd been saving it for a special occasion. She bit into it and sure enough, heaven in her mouth. There was a note next to it and the taste of the soufflé weakened her enough that she read it.

_Clara_

_I don't know when you'll read this, or even if you'll get past 'Clara' before throwing this in the bin, but I'm kind of hoping the soufflé softens you up enough that you'll read it. _–Damn he knew her well- _I know what I said was completely out of line. And wrong. I can see from the way Jessie looks at you that he really does care and the only thing that stings more than my face right now is thinking that you don't realise how much I care about you Clara. You're right, I acted like a bitter and petulant child, but it's only because I don't know what I'd do without you. I need you around, in my life. I will do anything to convince you that I'm not lying but I suspect I'll never get the chance. Please, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. _

_Love The Doctor x_

"Clara, is that you?"

The voice was behind her and she whirled, tears already filling her eyes as he looked at her, surprise and sadness written all over his features. His self-pity party crashed to the ground though, as he saw her face and crossed the room in a heartbeat, arms around her and lips finding her forehead. Clara sobbed, unable to find any words to explain how she felt. She was completely and utterly drained. She'd been dragged through the emotional wringer that evening and right now she needed the one person that just a few hours ago, she'd never thought she'd be in the eye again.

"You were right," she said after an eternity had passed in his arms. "He used me Doctor. He cheated because I wasn't good enough in bed and now he's dumped me. I'm useless. Worse than useless. I'm damaged," she whispered, looking into his eyes. "Everyone and everything I love falls apart at the seams. You claim you're toxic but I'm worse. I don't know how to cope, so I drink and drink. I'm a bottle of vodka down already you know, but it's not enough. Because I can still remember them. Jessie, my mum, Bitch-Face, the Master, they're all still in there. And you. I was a complete…"

"Clara," the Doctor said firmly, pressing a finger to her lips. "Shut up." And she did. "You are amazing. If Jessie couldn't see that, then he's nothing. Less than nothing." There was an unpleasant edge to his voice that warmed Clara's heart despite making her shiver. "You can't bring your mum back and it's not down to you that she died. Your dad will come around and people like the Master don't even deserve a moment in your thoughts. I was the one who was horrible to you for no reason and I deeply regret that. So much. Clara," he looked her in the eyes and smiled. "I love you and I'm here for you."

Her breath caught in her throat. His smile and his eyes melted her broken heart, giving her something to mould. She gave him a teary smile. He loved her. Of course he did. He always had, in his own weird asexual way.

"Why can't all guys be like you?" she asked, punching his arm. "If they were, I'd have no problems with guys like Jessie. I'm so lucky to have such an amazing friend. I love you too, you great big idiot. And thank you for the soufflé, it was gorgeous."

The word friend shattered the Doctor's heart. He had forgotten the simple truth of their relationship, she didn't see him that way. All the love she felt for him was platonic. Her big, wet eyes and her tear-streaked cheeks and her smile, glistening. They were all adoration but not lust. She cared about him, but she could never be his girlfriend. She could never satisfy the deep hunger within him. But she was like a magnet, no matter how much he wanted to push her away and spare himself pain, he felt himself pulled irrevocably towards her. She was still only a few inches away from him and if he only had the courage, he could kiss her. But if he did, that was it. There was no going back. He'd ruin everything and she'd never look at him the same way again. And the Doctor couldn't do it. He couldn't lose the way she was looking at him now. Not for anything.

"Can you tell me a bedtime story?" Clara asked unexpectedly and he shot her a confused look. "I know that sounds weird, but even when I was a teenager, my mum would soothe me with a story, cheer me up. When I was fifteen and I had to have braces, I cried for hours until she told me a story. It made everything better. And you have that effect. And well this has been in the top five worst days of my life. It's up there with…" she paused. "Well you know and the day that I got my hair caught in a sanding machine when I was twelve. Don't even ask!" she added, shuddering at the memory.

"Of course I'll tell you a bedtime story Closwald," he smiled and she didn't even call him out on it. "Come on."

Clara nipped back to grab the soufflé and then took his hand, pulling him into her room. He was already in his dressing gown but she asked him to turn his back while she changed into her onesie. He wondered why he was allowed in the room but shrugged as it didn't matter. She trusted him not to look. What he didn't realise, what she didn't realise was that part of her, a part of her growing larger and harder to ignore by the day, was completely in love with him. And this part of her wanted him to look as much as he wanted to look. And he did. He couldn't help himself, he turned, just for a moment. She wasn't facing him, so all he saw was her bare back, her smooth flawless skin running all the way down to her adorable bottom. She was cupping her breast and he could see just a hint of them from his angle. He felt himself harden and turned back before she caught him. After a minute or so, she instructed him that she was successfully onesied up and he turned in relief, ignoring the thing pressing again the waistline of his boxers and hoping she couldn't see it. If she could, she didn't comment, she merely patted to her bed and he sat on the edge and she made an odd noise.

"Doctor," she said quietly and he smiled at her. "Can you get into bed with me?"

"Okay," he said instantly, before catching himself. "I mean, I can manage that, if you want my err company."

"Down boy," Clara teased. "I just hate the idea of being alone tonight. It's been a horrible day and I don't want to be alone. Sometimes, when I was a kid my mum would climb into bed with me and protect me. It made me feel safe, enabled me to sleep. I just want that feeling again. When I slept beside Jessie, he held me. Made me feel special. I know it's pathetic, but having that kind of proximity to someone is something I think I need. I'm really sorry."

"Don't apologise," the Doctor whispered as he slipped into bed beside her. "It's not pathetic, it's understandable. It's been a draining day for you and I'm here. I'm always here."

So the Doctor slept beside Clara that night, drifting her off to sleep with a story about a man who ran away from home in a raggedy suit and a strange blue box. The story made no sense the more of it he told her and she snorted at various bits. But it put her to sleep long before the Doctor had told her the best bit. That the man who was running had given himself a name. The Doctor.


	14. Chapter 14: Confusion

***Well hello again everyone. Slightly early upload today to apologise for yesterday's later one but also to leave you stewing for longer on this cliffhanger :D I am really dragging Clara through the ringer these next few chapters, so brace yourselves. This one picks up where 13 left off, Clara is single, angry, heartbroken and above all confused. I'm halfway through writing Chapter 22 and I have no idea how long this fiction is going to be, certainly more than 30 chapters at the current rate. So, I hope you enjoy this chapter and keep enjoying the story and as ever thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and followed, please keep doing so. Any input would be appreciated. Now, I have a fictional wedding to plan...or was it a funeral? I can never seem to remember the difference... TPD***

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Clara woke to found her left arm pinned. Her right arm was thrown over the Doctor lazily and she didn't like how close her chest was to his back, they were practically snuggling. She pulled her left arm out from under him slowly and decided that he had earned breakfast in bed for once. The fact that it was her bed didn't escape her and she felt a blush creep in at the thought that she had let the Doctor sleep in her bed. Asked him to sleep in her bed, she corrected herself shamefully. That couldn't be allowed to happen ever again. He meant too much to her for something silly to happen between them. She didn't like him in a boyfriend way, no matter how good a cuddler he happened to be, or how good a hugger. Or how attractive he was, or how good to her he was. Clara slapped herself mentally and focused all her thoughts on scrambled eggs and pancakes, whistling cheerily. Mercifully, the Doctor hadn't extricated himself from her duvet just yet and she placed the tray on the bedside table, watching him sleep with the affection she would a child. His eyes fluttered open and she started, falling off the bed and picking herself up, smoothing out her onesie and hair and gesticulating wildly at the breakfast. She felt like the Doctor.

"Breakfast," she managed and he shot her a wild smile before sitting up and patting the area next to him. Clara wasn't sure how him inviting her into her own bed to share breakfast had become a thing but she felt suddenly as though they had become a married couple overnight. She winced at the thought and threw herself down next to him, stabbing a pancake with her fork.

"Thank you for last night," she said eventually, to break the semi-awkward silence that had fallen between them. "All of it. The soufflé, the hugging, the bedtime story. Jessie is a prick, he's not worth my time. I can do better than him."

"Frankly, it would be difficult for you to do worse," the Doctor informed her. "But you're welcome Clara. I just can't believe he would do that, I didn't believe for a second that a word I'd said about him was true. Although, for the sake of clarity, I told you so."

Coming from anyone else, that would have earned them a smack but coming from the Doctor, it made Clara smile and shot warmth down to the pit of her stomach. They were close now, his own body radiating warmth to the point where she could feel the warmth of him next to her. The thought sent shivers down her spine. She ate quietly and quickly, this new awkward feeling inside her one she wanted rid of. She couldn't help but notice everything about the Doctor now and what was worse was how it affected her. The way his hair stuck up, the little creases on his forehead when he frowned, the dead skin on his lips, the freckles. The arches of his shoulders and the way his t-shirt clung to his torso. Clara tried to draw herself away from it, away from him. He was her friend, her best friend, this wasn't appropriate. If she let herself have feelings for the Doctor, he'd have to break her heart and that would kill their friendship, stone dead. He was too special to her to risk jeopardising that. She finished her breakfast, not sure if she felt better or worse afterwards. The vodka in her system had finally started acting up and she groaned as she felt her head split and go into overdrive. She flopped back, the Doctor's hand on her forehead soothing her instantly.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, his voice so soft and his face so close to hers, Clara could reach up and kiss him. But she couldn't. She was being silly, treating him as a rebound for Jessie because he was the only guy around. Jessie…Clara's heart ached in spasms, shooting through her so she gasped, wracked with the pain of the hangover and heartbreak as they teamed up, waging war on her insides.

"Not really," she answered. "The lethal concoction of a prat of an ex-boyfriend breaking my heart and a bottle of vodka are trying to rip me apart from the inside out. Nothing I can't cope with, I just need some water and a good long cry."

"I'll fetch you some water and tissues," the Doctor went to stand and she grappled his arm fiercely, unsure why she did it but he looked straight down at her and she felt herself going red. "Clara, I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I'll be twenty seconds," he reassured her and Clara let go of him, adding embarrassment to the swirling pit of emotion that had overtaken her. What was happening to her? All of a sudden, the Doctor had become something different and she couldn't keep her own emotions contained. But at the same time, she still loved Jessie and he was inside her, the thought of him ripping her apart. Clara screamed in frustration into her pillow, unsure of anything anymore. When the Doctor returned, she gratefully accepted the water and let him snuggle back alongside her. They both knew that this was getting increasingly intimate but neither of them was trying hard enough to stop it.

"Doctor," Clara whispered and he looked at her, longing in his eyes. A care she'd never seen before, but she wanted it to never end. "What is going on with me? I feel as though I'm coming apart at the seams. Jessie has stamped on my heart, I'm hungover and all I can think about is you and it hurts. I'm so confused and angry and I feel as though I'm losing my grip on reality."

"Clara," he replied, biting his lip. "I am here for you. Whatever confusion and anger you're feeling, I can help you get through it, okay? I am not going anywhere. Talk to me Clara, what do you need from me?"

I need you. Clara thought desperately, but she didn't say it. She let herself drift and found all her thoughts converging on one day. One moment. So very long ago, and yet one she would never forget…

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_Clara Oswald was walking home from school, whistling a cheerful tune, her friend Nina in tow. The two girls were chatting about Alex McCarthy, a boy from school. He was cute, Clara admitted, but Nina was more into the rough and tumble type, so Alex wouldn't suit her. Nina nudged Clara playfully and informed her that she wasn't thinking about Alex for herself. Clara blushed at this and stammered an excuse, playing with her full fringe and biting her nails subconsciously. Clara held her school satchel close to her chest, as if protecting her and Nina laughed before telling her that she couldn't stay a virgin forever. Clara laughed along nervously but she silently felt slightly ashamed. Nina had had sex a number of times and Clara constantly felt as though she needed to catch up. _

_They rounded a corner and there it was, a police car. It was just down the street and the policemen got out. Clara and Nina exchanged a look and moved slightly quicker, hoping to find out which house the cop was going to. It wasn't often the police pitched up in their neighbourhood. Then, Clara felt her heart began to race. They were at her house. _

_"What did you do now Missus?" Nina asked with a giggle, then nudged Clara who had lost her voice. "Oh relax, it's probably just a routine visit, they've pitched up at mine a few times for no apparent reason!" But Nina's voice wasn't convincing and Clara was increasingly dreading entering the house._

_"I'll see you later," Clara said quietly, skipping past Nina and hurriedly crossing the street. There was a man and a woman already inside her house, the green high-visibility jackets telling her everything she needed to know. Her father was there, ashen-faced. He looked at Clara and she could tell immediately, just from his eyes, that something was very, very wrong. She took a step back, looking for a way out, but the woman had already spotted her and nodded knowingly to her partner. Her face was full of sympathy, but that only panicked Clara more, driving her back, she wanted to run but her legs gave way under her and she fell to the floor, the policewoman darting forward to help her. _

_"Clara?" she asked soothingly and Clara nodded. "Love, I am so sorry. But we've got some bad news…"_

_And then she said the words that shattered Clara's soul into a million pieces. Her mum was dead. Her mum, gone. Clara didn't believe it, couldn't believe it. She screamed, a blood-curdling noise that made even the soft faced policewoman wince. She went to put her arms around Clara but Clara pushed her off, screaming like a wild animal. She yelled and flailed, running upstairs and shouting her mum's name, as if it could make her appear. As if she wasn't dead. Clara went to her father, but he didn't say anything, his eyes glossed over and his voice non-existent. He looked terrifying to Clara, who needed someone to tell her everything was going to be alright. That her mum wasn't dead. But there was nothing to be said. Her mum was dead. And Clara was never going to be okay, ever again._

* * *

Looking back, that had been simple. It had been the single most painful experience of her life and it had completely and utterly devastated her. But it had been simple. Her mum was dead, there was nothing Clara could do. She was helpless, a spectator. Here, she had an active role in what was going on. Her feelings for Jessie, her feelings for the Doctor, all swirling around in a vortex and Clara lying at the heart of it. She was still in love with Jessie, she knew that much. But the Doctor was always there, the perpetual centre of her new life. She felt confused and angry and she needed some sort of release. It didn't help that he was on her arm, next to her, so close she could almost hear his heartbeat. The doorbell startled them and the Doctor was on his feet, Clara getting the irresistible urge to follow. As she scuttled behind him, he opened the front door and Clara stopped dead. It was Jessie.

"I just came to get my…" Jessie started but never finished his sentence, as the Doctor broke his nose. She had never seen anyone punch so quickly, with such ferocity, but the Doctor's fist had unfurled itself like a lightning bolt and crashed into Jessie's face before he could even flinch. Blood spurted everywhere and Jessie yelled in pain, his head snapping back, his nose crooked. The Doctor shut the door. He was already moving and Clara reached out to him as he past her but he didn't even blink. His face had gone hard, and if he took a grim pleasure in the punch, it didn't show on his face. He returned a minute or two later with Jessie's belongings, and reopened the door, startling Jessie by throwing all of his things out the door so they scattered down the street, Jessie cursing loudly as he tried to pluck things from the air.

"Wait, can I talk to Clara?" he asked desperately.

"No," the Doctor replied, shutting the door again and turning back to Clara, his pleasant demeanour returning as quickly as it had vanished as he smiled at her. Her mouth had dropped open and she was staring at the Doctor with something approaching awe. "Everything alright Clara?"

"You just punched Jessie in the face," she pointed out. "I think you broke his nose."

"I hope I broke his nose, otherwise it was a waste of a punch," the Doctor replied casually. "I've utilised that before, almost always smashes up their nose, it'll probably be crooked forever. At least, if I've done it right."

"You're…" Clara didn't really know what to say to him. "I mean, that was…"

"I'm not the man you think I am Closwald," he said quietly, walking past her and sending a shiver down her spine.

"I think I'm beginning to realise that," she replied, more to herself than anything. "And stop calling me Closwald!" she yelled, following the Doctor into the bedroom.

* * *

Several days later and Clara saw Jessie in another lecture. She waved cheerfully at him, determined to show that he hadn't dented her spirits. She felt wretched even looking at him, but she took a lot of satisfaction in the state of his messed up face. The Doctor's punch had been brutally efficient. She was slightly surprised he hadn't complained to the university or the police but then the way he looked at her indicated to her that at least he realised he deserved it. Damn right he had. He tried to stop her as she walked past him, but the look she shot him was ice cold, all anger and hardness. Jessie shrank back and Clara held her head high as she sat down.

"What happened with Jessie?" asked Annabelle, a girl who normally sat with Clara in these lectures. "I assume the face is your handiwork, so what did the arsehole do?"

"Dumped me," Clara replied casually, trying to make notes without showing too much emotion. "Jesus Christ, that makes me sound a bit bitter doesn't it?" she added with a laugh as she realised Annabelle was shooting her a concerned look. "He took me out to dinner on our 8 month anniversary and admitted to cheating on me and then dumped me because I wasn't good enough in the bedroom for him," Clara admitted, feeling slightly better after saying it out loud. "So he pitched up on my doorstep for his stuff and my flatmate clocked him."

"You mean the Doctor you were telling me about?" Annabelle clarified and Clara nodded. "Well it sounds like he really has your back," she said with a knowing smile. "Jessie is an arse Clara, don't let him get to you. I know he broke your heart, but some guys just aren't worth having your heart broken for. Whereas some guys…well there are some guys who are so good that you can't resist letting them breaking your heart, you know what I mean?"

She knew Annabelle was talking about her own brutal losses in the love life department, Clara was well versed in her friend's struggles, but all she could think about was how well Annabelle's words applied to the Doctor. She tried to shake it off, but the simple fact was that he was always there for her. Was he worth the heart-break? Yes, Clara decided. But she didn't care about losing her heart, she could cope with that. But losing the Doctor? She thought that that would be the end of her.

"And then there are some guys who would never break your heart, no matter how hard they try," Annabelle added and Clara was suddenly doubting the wisdom of everything else intelligent that Annabelle had said.

"You've been reading too many romance novels," Clara muttered under her breath.

* * *

She was meeting Britney and Josie at the pub before she went home, on the basis that they hadn't seen each other in a while and were due a catch up. When she got there, she was slightly surprised to see the Doctor was already there, sat between them and he grinned warmly and beckoned her over when he saw her. He stood up to hug Clara upon her arrival and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. Whiskey and beer, charming. Clara sat down, her eyes trained on the Doctor, who went to get them both drinks. Britney and Josie were both looking at Clara funny.

"What?" she asked, trying hard not to snap. "Why are you both looking at me like that?"

"Because, he hasn't stopped talking about you from the moment you two arrived," Josie whispered, glancing over her shoulder to see the Doctor queuing up. "So what happened with Jessie, Miss?"

"He was a," Clara thought of a way to put it diplomatically and didn't bother, using a word that made both of the girls pull a nasty face. "Exactly. I'm done with guys, especially guys like Jessie, who think that they can just use you for whatever they want. What about you two? I take it your love lives are less tragically depressing than mine?"

"Wine!" the Doctor interrupted with a grin, placing a glass in front of Clara. "For the lady!" Clara rolled her eyes and didn't clock the knowing smile between Britney and Josie. "So, Josie, how's Tony?"

"Tony is wonderful," Josie started gushing and Clara giggled as she paid attention to Josie's story, occasionally shooting the Doctor a look across the table. It was another hour or so of meaningless conversation before Clara was finally able to escape, dragging the Doctor with her. By this point, he was pretty drunk and resting on her shoulder as they walked home.

"You know Clara," he said quietly, as she grumbled under her breath about how heavy he was. "You wouldn't have problems with guys like Jessie, if you got a real, awesome boyfriend. Someone like me."

At this point, she dropped him. She actually stood away from him, wincing slightly as he lost his footing and hit the pavement. She immediately felt guilty but made no move to try and help him up, more confused than ever at his comment.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she demanded nervously, pointing an angry finger at him. "You do not want to be my boyfriend. You'd be terrible at it. And we're friends. It would ruin everything."

"I do want to be your boyfriend Clara," the Doctor slurred, managing to find his feet without her help, though now she was torn between running from him and running to him to help him stand. "I've wanted to ever since I met you. And I'm sick of pretending that I don't want to be. I'm sick of watching you go on dates, like with Jessie and being fucked around by people like Jessie, when all I want to do is hold you tight and kiss you like there's no tomorrow. We're friends Clara, but we're so much more than that. I've always seen you as special, as magnificent. As something to be cherished. And I can't pretend anymore that I'm okay with being with you every day, and being so close to getting what I want more than anything else in the world and not getting it. Clara Oswald, I love you. Completely and I can't go on anymore. I know you feel the same way. Clara?"

She was frozen to the spot, rage, confusion and love all pouring into every corner of her being. She didn't know what to do, didn't know what she could do. This was just him being drunk, she was sure of it, it was a trick. If she said yes, then he'd wake up and remember and then that would be it. She had to keep him at arm's length, she had to protect herself and protect him. She couldn't do this. She wouldn't do this. She needed him as a friend, she couldn't risk losing him by being honest.

"Doctor, I don't love you," Clara said quietly. "This is just you being crazy, being drunk. You don't love me Doctor and we're not meant to be together. Now, let's get you home."

But he was looking at her like she'd just killed his puppy. His eyes were sluggish and full of tears and his mouth had slipped open. He was looking at her a way he'd never looked at her before, lust dripping from him. This wasn't the Doctor, wasn't her Doctor. Clara didn't know what to do, didn't know what to say. But he looked utterly different and she wasn't sure if this was even the same man that she could love.

"Fine," he said his voice icy and it made her want to cry. "I'm done. Goodbye Clara Oswald."

And then he turned on his heels and stumbled away.


	15. Chapter 15: Everything Changes

***Hello beloved readers! Another day, another chapter, another cliffhanger (sorry in advance). First off, something I've been looking forward to saying for a while SMUT WARNING! :D Yep two characters (not saying who) get hot and heavy. So, I left you guys with Clara stomping all over the Doctor's heart and he pulled a vanishing act. I really hope you enjoy this chapter, it is slightly shorter but hopefully the content will make up for that. I want to do a double update at some point, but every chapter atm is ending on a cliffhanger so I can't. But I will when things settle down in about 4 chapters time. As ever, thank you so much for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting and please keep doing so. Oh and check out my other fics, blah blah, Transitions, blah blah. Now, I have a fictional funeral to plan. Or was it a wedding? I always get those two mixed up... TPD***

* * *

Clara was sat in bed, crying quietly. She looked at the clock and knew that soon she'd have to get up and go to campus. But she didn't want to. She didn't want to do anything anymore. She took another swig of vodka, hoping that that would motivate her one way or the other. She felt stuck, trapped in this limbo. It had been four days since she had rejected the Doctor, since she had broken both their hearts and he had disappeared. She knew she loved him now, that much had become clear. The minute she'd told him she didn't love him, her heart had shattered. She hadn't known, she'd been so confused, so angry but the moment she said it aloud, she knew the truth. The confusion had melted away. She was in love with the Doctor and she needed him in so many ways. But she'd burnt that bridge to smithereens and left it to rot. He was gone. Where, she didn't know and she wasn't sure if he'd ever return. She'd not done anything about it. She wanted more than anything for him to come back but then what? She still wanted what she'd always wanted, him as a friend and she didn't think that jeopardising that for anything was a good idea. But then, if he truly was in love with her, the way he claimed, then maybe something could happen between them?

Clara had had four days to mull it over and she didn't know anymore. Alcohol had blinded her to the best path and she was both stable and unstable. Part of her wanted to throw herself into work, another part wanted to just lie in bed and cry. But above all, she wanted to find the Doctor. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, she just needed to know he was okay. She was too cowardly to pick up the phone, although she did text him on the morning after the argument. He hadn't replied. Clara glanced at the clock once again. Another five minutes had passed. She sighed. It was time to face the real world. She crawled out of bed, kicking open her bedroom door placidly and heading into the bathroom. She let the hot water rush over her, screaming in anger and frustration as she felt her tears mix with the shower water. As she stumbled out, she wished she could stay under the hot jets forever, but sadly this wasn't the case. She wrapped a towel around her and stepped out. And the Doctor was stood there.

He looked different but the same. His floppy hair was flat and lifeless against his head, his bright, smiling face was pale white and emotionless, like a zombie, although his eyes had widened slightly at seeing her, her small body covered only by her thin towel, which she instinctively pulled closer to her. The thing that sent little shockwaves down her spine was his neck. He wasn't wearing a bow tie and that stung Clara, though she wasn't sure why. It was probably the symbolism. He wasn't wearing one because she'd bought them for him.

"They reminded me too much of you," he said curtly and she blushed, realising that she'd been staring at the spot where the bow tie should have been. "Sorry I didn't tell you I was alive, that was a tad selfish of me." The lack of expression in his face was like a punch to Clara's gut. "Never mind, I'm back now."

"Where did you go?" Clara whispered. "Are you okay?"

"I went out. I'm back now, so you can stop worrying about me. I'm sorry Clara, I should never have thrown myself at you like that, I remembered why I prevented myself from doing so. I've ruined our friendship."

"Stop talking like that!" Clara snapped, tears in her eyes as she gripped the towel like her life depended on it. Her wet hair was stinging against her eyes and she whipped it back with her free hand. "Stop acting like I didn't break your heart and your soul. Because I missed you so much and I…"

"Clara, I understand. But I don't want you to let me into your life again and your heart out of guilt. You don't love me and you never can. Even if you did think you loved me, I'd only end up hurting you, getting you killed. Clara, I need you to understand that I can never be with you. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it has to be."

"Doctor," Clara started but he was already on his feet. He reached her and cupped her cheek in his hand. Clara was sobbing now but he smiled at her and kissed her gently, as if to say goodbye. He went to walk away but she grabbed him and let the towel drop. His eyes widened further but she'd had enough of playing around. She was done with talking. Clara wrenched the Doctor towards her and forced his mouth open with a kiss like no other. His tongue shot into her mouth and hers met his, the two muscles dancing in tandem as Clara's inhibitions left her. She was well aware of the fact that she was naked but she didn't feel vulnerable, as his left hand found her breast, his right entangled itself in her hair. Her own hands were throwing away his jacket, her left getting to work on his shirt buttons while her right slipped down his trousers.

The Doctor moaned as she grabbed him, rubbing her hand up and down as he gasped and grew harder. Their mouths separated now, his running down her body from her neck to her nipple, where he suckled and she let out a gasp of her own. She growled and bit down on his neck, his shirt now promptly removed as she went to work on his trousers. He pressed her up against the wall and his mouth left her nipple to whisper: "My room or yours?"

Clara grabbed him, pulling him with her as they stumbled backwards into her bedroom, raking kisses down his chest until she reached his member. She winked at him and sucked, his own hands plunging so that she squealed in delight, biting down causing him to yelp. Her hands were in his hair now and she refused to let him finish, instead going back to kiss him so he could taste what she had tasted. She didn't even realise his hands were out until she felt him enter her and she roared in delight. He thrusted and she felt herself fade into him. He became everything, all her thoughts. They rolled and he was on top now, forcing himself on and on, holding off as she carried on kissing him, occasionally letting herself moan when it became too great. She could feel herself getting closer and closer and then she exploded into ecstasy, screaming the Doctor's name so loudly she was still hearing it echo in her brain afterwards. And still he didn't stop, so she felt herself being pushed beyond the point of no return. Then, when she thought she could take no more, her body wracked by spasms, he came, exploding inside her, her name being bellowed into her ear.

The Doctor pulled out and they lay back, side by side, both exhausted and gasping for air. It was the single most invigorating experience of Clara's life, far exceeding anything Jessie had ever given her. Her eyes met his and for the first time since she'd met him, there was no sadness in them. Just pure joy, pure happiness. She leaned in and kissed him and for a moment they lay there in the most comfortable silence Clara had ever experienced. Then, he spoke, saying the three most magical words of Clara's existence.

"I love you."

"I love you too," Clara replied, not even giving herself a second to think about it. "And I never should have pretended I didn't. I've been lying to myself now for so long, telling myself that no good could come of us being together, but the truth is, and I didn't realise it until I pushed you away, that I wanted to be with you more than anything. I know you can be pretty self-depreciating, but I'm here for you, just like you've always been there for me."

"Clara, there are things I've done," he whispered. "Things that are unforgivable."

"I don't care," she told him. "What you've done in the past is the past. Whatever happened, whatever you think you're responsible for, it's who you are now that matters and I love that man more than anything. He has shown me that there's more to life than the loss and pain that I suffered that consumed me until I met you. That man is the kindest, most beautiful person I've ever met and if what you did in the past led you here then at least some good came out of it."

The Doctor still seemed fairly dubious about the whole situation but smiled at her anyway. Clara felt the warmth radiating from him, although the sadness had returned to his eyes. Her hand had found his cheek, the intimacy of the gesture as powerful as the sexual experience they'd just enjoyed together. He leaned in and kissed her gently and she couldn't help but compare his kissing to Jessie's. It was softer, more tender but rougher when it needed to be and she couldn't deny that the Doctor was by far the better of the two. He tasted of something Clara couldn't pin down but it was smoky and harsh, yet inviting her in, intoxicating her. Clara slipped on her underwear and bra and rolled in behind him, so they were snuggling. He was a great snuggler, she had already learned and it felt so perfect with less clothing, his body moulding into hers. His left hand was tracing her body up and down and Clara shivered when he touched her waist or her breasts. Her own hands were on his chest now and they relaxed in silence for what seemed like an age. Clara fell asleep in the end, and for the first time in what seemed like an age, she was able to enjoy an uninterrupted night of pleasant dreams…

* * *

She knew she shouldn't have been surprised that the Doctor was still there when she woke up, but nevertheless she was. He was gazing at her with an intensity unrivalled and she sensed that it was an intensity that he had been masking from her for a long time. He wordlessly kissed her, their lips moulding for an instant of pure happiness before they broke apart and she was unable to stop herself grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Hello," she whispered.

"Hello," the Doctor replied, amused. "You know it's afternoon right?"

"Yeah I know," Clara chuckled. "I haven't slept properly in days. Something to do with the horrific breakup, followed by the gut-wrenching rejection of the man I love. Things like that tend to fuck with your sleeping pattern a bit, they give you nightmares and plague your every moment."

"You don't need to tell me," the Doctor smiled. "But we're together now and that's what matters."

"Oh we're together are we?" Clara teased. "I thought we were just friends and flatmates who just happen to have had crazy, passionate sex?"

"That's a joke right?" the Doctor asked, more than a hint of nerves in his voice. Clara giggled and reassured him with a long, slow kiss that he returned. She winked at him and nodded, as if he needed more confirmation. Clara glanced at the clock and muttered a low curse.

"I am going to have to go onto campus," she whined. "I need to meet Annabelle to get all the notes from the crap I've missed today and I have a seminar in an hour that I simply cannot miss. I'll be back in a few hours, I promise."

The Doctor pulled a sulking face but nodded his agreement, smirking as she climbed out of bed and pulled some jeans on. Something suddenly struck him and he looked at Clara with something akin to horror.

"Condom," he said quietly. "We didn't use a condom."

"Oh would you relax?" Clara laughed. "I've been on the pill for months, ever since I started sleeping with Jessie…"

"The same Jessie who cheated on you?" the Doctor pointed out. "What if he picked something up? You should get…"

"I've already gotten tested," Clara replied, a little snippier than she intended. "You and I weren't exactly speaking at the time but I got the results back and he didn't give me anything. So don't worry," she added tenderly, moving in to kiss the Doctor as she searched for a top. Then, she had a thought and leaned in close, whispering in his ear as her hair fell onto him: "Not so nervous around my bra now, are we?"

The Doctor blushed furiously and swatted her away as she laughed; a piercing sound that had once filled him with regret and longing, but now filled him with pure ecstasy. Clara was whistling cheerily and he let the noise fill him until the front door slammed. He grinned to himself and lay back, soaking up the atmosphere. He had a lot of thoughts playing around in his head, so many issues that they may have to face, but for now, he was with Clara Oswald, and that made him the happiest man on the planet.

* * *

Not even the most boring seminar of all time could dampen Clara's spirits as she whistled cheerily, stepping out of the room and into the bright evening sunshine. It was nippy, but not cold and she wrapped her cardigan around her as she almost skipped down the path. She felt an arm on her shoulder and swirled, her face falling and her mood fading only slightly as she was face to face with the Master.

"I hear you broke up with poor Jessie," he said suavely, making Clara want to throw up. "What does that mean you're single now?"

"No!" Clara snapped, her joy at the truth of it overriding her anger. "If you must know, I'm seeing the Doctor. Not that it's any of your business," she added, realising that as much as she wanted to shout it from the rooftops, telling the Master wasn't the wisest of plans. But his face had twisted into a smirk, which unnerved her to her core.

"How sweet," he said, as if she was talking about her puppy rather than her boyfriend. "Well if that is the case, then there is somebody I think you should meet. The two of you have a lot of talking to do."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Clara growled. "I don't want to meet some whore you've cooked up to tell me bullshit stories about the Doctor. I'm done letting you even try to manipulate me."

"Oh, but I'm not going to try anything," the Master replied. "This is his number, is it not?"

Clara frowned but the phone number the Master was holding out, did appear to be from the Doctor. She bit her lip furiously, desperate to ignore whatever lies the Master was concocting but the number was the Doctor's and she had a gnawing feeling about it.

"Come with me," he urged her. "And all your questions will be answered…"

* * *

The Doctor was waiting. Waiting for Clara Oswald. He was lying in Clara Oswald's bed, waiting for his impossible girl to return. She was impossible, he had decided, because he hadn't thought it plausible that any girl that beautiful, sweet, funny and intelligent could possibly exist, let alone fall in love with him. She was perfect in every way for him and he couldn't quite believe that she was real. But she was. Completely and utterly real. And she was sleeping with him. Well, they were a couple, he supposed. They hadn't really discussed that, ironed out the kinks but the Doctor really didn't care. When you loved someone, the way he loved Clara, everything else was just window dressing. He toyed with the idea of asking her to be his girlfriend officially over dinner. The Doctor had more money than he needed and the idea of spending it all on Clara made him feel happier than before, if that was possible. He had been neglecting his sonic prototype, to the point where he didn't even know why he was bothering to carry on, but then it had been a hectic week or so. When things settled down with Clara, with his impossible girl, then he'd work extra hard to ensure that he finished it, he must be close now he reckoned.

He heard her re-enter. He grinned to himself, amazed that she had been gone so little time and then her bedroom door crashed open. Her eyes were blazing, her cheeks tear-stained. There was a fury about her that alarmed the Doctor and he leapt to his feet, aiming to soothe her. It took him a moment as her eyes narrowed at him, but he realised that she wasn't just angry. She was livid. Full on livid and not just livid, but livid with him. Panic consumed the Doctor as she reached him and she stopped, dead in front of him. Every faucet of her being was shaking with fury and she pressed a finger to his chest. One, delicate finger. She was close to the edge and one wrong foot from the Doctor would send her over it, send her spiralling into uncontrollable rage. He had to very careful not to antagonise her. When she spoke, her voice was simmering, ready to break.

"I know about River Song."

* * *

**Oh yeah, River's in this fic. Spoilers.**


	16. Chapter 16: River Song

***Well you wanted it so you got it. A double update! Partially because people want one and want to see what happens and partially because tomorrow's update will be about 8pm GMT as I've got lectures til late on a Thursday. Also because people think River's introduction will be swiftly dealt with. And it will. Please don't kill me. Anyway, we've got a River Song to deal with. Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, favouriting, you guys are awesome, the very best. This super special update is purely for you. Now, I have a wedding or a funeral to plan... or is it both? TPD***

* * *

For a single, simple moment, he hoped that he had heard wrong. But then she said it again and this time, her finger pounded into his chest once to punctuate each word she spoke. The Doctor looked down at her, her anger ebbing and flowing as he stayed ominously silent. Whatever she knew about River Song, this couldn't be good. Clara looked him up and down, as if challenging him to deny it. Deny everything. But how could he? Clara had uncovered the truth after all. Clara bit her lip nervously and then turned on her heels, pacing towards the door and slamming it shut. She then turned back to him, fury being rapidly replaced by upset and the Doctor wished there was something he could say to make everything better. But he couldn't. If Clara knew about River, then she had every right to be angry with him and he wasn't about to lie to her face about it.

"How long?" Clara asked, her voice deathly quiet. "How long?" she asked again, louder this time.

"A long time."

* * *

_The Doctor knocked on the door of the Archaeology department's research division. She had her own office of course, ever the academic. She was in there, and she looked surprised to see him. He entered, slipping through into her office and she shut the door behind him. She invited him to sit and he did, as she eyed him up, watching every orifice of his body. _

_"Hello sweetie," she said with that glint in her voice, as if his very appearance pleased her. "It's been a while."_

_"Yes," the Doctor replied bluntly. "It has. Doctor Song. Finally got your PHD then? And they've given you a cushy little office. How sweet. Glad that you're finally getting somewhere, after months of having you moan about being underappreciated."_

_"Oh sweetie, we both know I moaned at more than that," she winked and the Doctor felt himself blush. He was a slave when it came to River, he never could resist. "But you're not here to talk shop now are you, or you would have turned up months ago. Tell me, did you pick this university purely because you knew I was here or was there some other reason?"_

_"There was a multitude of conspiring factors," the Doctor replied, neglecting to mention that River's job here was the primary factor among that. "If I'm honest River, I thought I'd moved on from you, but it seems circumstances have conspired against me. But the rules have changed."_

_"Oh sweetie," River laughed. "The rules were always perfectly clear. I can pitch up whenever I like and we can have all the fun in the world. But nothing serious. That remains the deal, I'm not a relationship kind of gal." _

_"No," the Doctor agreed. "You're not. Only this time, I'm calling the shots. I'll come here when I want to, not when you command me. And you will never try to come to my place. After all," he added curtly. "What would the university say if you were caught in halls, with a student no less?"_

_"So who is she?" River asked with a smirk and the Doctor felt his heart snap all over again. It had only been a few hours since he'd overheard Clara telling Britney and Josie that she didn't like him that way and they could only be friends. Their kiss the previous night had meant the world to him, but nothing apparently to her. "Oh come on Doctor, I can see it all over your face. You don't want me to come to you in case she sees me and feels threatened."_

_"She has a name!" the Doctor spat, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. Clara. Even the thought of her name hurt him. This was the only way. River was the only one who could give him release. "And she's so much more than this. She is perfect," he told her and River pulled a face. "I mean it. You might have sheered out your heart but mine works perfectly fine."_

_"Oh sweetie," River smiled. "You'll let her break your heart over and over again and each time you'll come crawling here for sex? That's not a healthy way to deal with your feelings Doctor, and we both know it."_

_"Maybe not," the Doctor scowled and at this point, he threw herself at River, kissing her fiercely and she responded in kind, their movements so keenly intertwined it was as if they had never been apart. "But it's the only way I've got."_

* * *

Clara hadn't believed it at first. When the Master had cornered her and told her that the Doctor had been sleeping with someone for the entirety of their friendship, Clara had been unable to believe it. She knew she had no right to be angry at the Doctor for sleeping with someone before they got together but it raised questions. Questions that she feared the answers to. If that was the truth, then he'd been lying to her about it this whole time. He'd been keeping it from her for so long and that hurt Clara. It meant that whenever he disappeared, he had been with her. When he told her he loved her, he had then gone crawling back to her. To River Song. So he had jumped between them, playing nice to Clara one minute and then making love to another woman the next. How could she possibly trust him? How could she possibly trust his feelings for her, knowing that another woman had been in the picture the entire time? Then, she met River Song and things got worse. Doctor River Song was a member of the department of archaeology, and had just received her PHD. She'd first met the Doctor several years earlier in London and had started what River described as a mutually beneficial relationship. This was what the Doctor was currently telling her.

"River and I met in London, a few years back," the Doctor informed her. "I was 16, young and free spirited and I had escaped the orphanage long ago. When I told you I was completely alone until I came to uni, that was a lie. River and I started sleeping together, when it was convenient for her. I loathed our arrangement, I wanted more. I wanted her. I hate to admit it but I was infatuated. A child, who adored her, because she was older, wiser, and beautiful. I'd never met anyone like her, someone who made me feel things I was only just discovering were possible. She was 27, only a smidge over ten years older than me and I think she liked having someone completely subservient to her," the Doctor said. "We broke things off, it wasn't working. And then I came here," he paused here. "Clara, before I met you, River was the only person I knew in the world. I wanted her nearby, needed her close in case things went off the rails for me. So I chose here, because she was here and it made sense."

"So you're only here because of River?" Clara sounded disgusted and the Doctor didn't blame her.

"In a manner of speaking," he tried to be diplomatic, but Clara was still shaking with rage. "But then I met you and everything changed. I fell in love with you Clara, completely and utterly in love with you. And you broke my heart," she didn't soften at this, but maybe it was just her façade keeping her face angry. "I overheard you," he confessed. "When you told the girls that our kiss meant nothing and it broke me. Even then, I thought you were the one and I was so angry and frustrated. I needed a way to channel my anger, my pain. My heartbreak. So I turned to River…"

"That's what she told me," Clara said, her voice just about level but still shaking. "She told me that you used her for sex for almost a year. But that your heart belonged elsewhere, even though hers had always belonged to you. But how can I trust you Doctor? Yesterday, you were off having sex with River!" she was yelling now, unable to remain calm. "You told me you loved me and then you went off and had sex with another woman! How the hell am I supposed to believe a word you say?"

"Because it meant nothing!" the Doctor implored her. "River, I mean. All she ever was to me was a desperate way to try and get over you!"

"But that's what you would say!" Clara screamed, punching him furiously on the arm and letting out a shriek of exasperation. "You've been lying to me for almost the entirety of the time we've known each other about her, why stop now? How do I know that whenever we fall out or argue, you won't just climb back into bed with her? I don't know why you didn't tell me, couldn't tell me? The only explanation I can think of is that it meant that if we got together, it would have to stop and you didn't want that. You've always gone crawling back to River Song, so why should I get in the way of that?"

Clara was in floods of tears now, fuming with him and the Doctor tried to hug her, which earned him a bitter laugh and a shove. He stumbled backwards, holding up his hands in apology and tried to think of a way to get her to believe him.

"I'm not Jessie," he said quietly, which he immediately realised was the wrong thing to say, judging by the look she was giving him. "I'm not capable of doing something like that to you."

"Well I didn't think Jessie was either, did I?" Clara replied, her voice laced with poison. "But he did. How am I supposed to believe you when you've kept this from me for so long?"

"Clara," he said, his voice desperate as he looked into her eyes, trying to melt them with his own. "I know I've given you absolutely no reason to trust me, no reason to believe me. But River herself told you that the only reason I was sleeping with her was to try and get over you. Do you have any idea how painful it is? Having to spend every day with the most beautiful girl in the world, believing that she is completely and utterly perfect? Worse, she is completely and utterly perfect and thinking that she will never love you, can never love you? Because I'm a monster Clara, and all I could think was that I would never be able to be with you. And all I wanted was something to get me through the day, so I could look at you when I see you in the morning and when you get home in the evening, without bursting at the seams from longing. I needed a release, a way to escape the intoxication that had become Clara Oswald. And no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I threw myself into River, it didn't work. I'd see you, standing there with your gorgeous hair and amazing smile and my heart would shatter into a million pieces all over again. How could I tell you that Clara? How could I possibly explain to you that every second of you was killing me and simultaneously keeping me alive? And River was my only outlet, my only frantic way to take my mind off the perfection that you are. Do you genuinely believe that all the times I've cared for you, when I told you I loved you, do you believe I've been faking all that?"

"No," Clara whispered quietly. "I believe you love me. I can't deny that. And I understand how hard that must've been for you. But you also love River Song. You can't see it, because you're blinded by me, but she's the one you're meant to be with," Clara was sobbing now. "You're all she thinks about you know? She keeps on waiting for me to break your heart so she can see you. Well guess what? This is me, breaking your heart. Go back to River Song, Doctor, because you two have been in each other's lives for so long now and you mean so much to each other. Just go and stop playing with my heart. Because I don't know if I can trust you anymore. And I won't have you be like Jessie. Because I loved him and I trusted him and I thought that he loved me. And he broke me. And I won't let you do that to me. I won't let you shatter everything I've worked so hard to build. I'm only just finding my way out of the dark and I won't let you jeopardise that. So I'm leaving. Tonight. I'll stay with Annabelle, my friend from English, she has a spare room. And I won't be coming back. Because I can't do it. I can never trust you. I had to find out about River from the Master Doctor!" she was barely holding it together. "The most despicable man I've ever met was more honest than you about this mess."

"Don't you see?" the Doctor cried. "That's what he wants; the Master wants to drive a wedge between us. He's always hated me and he wants nothing more than to ruin my happiness! He's using you to hurt me!"

"No Doctor!" Clara gasped. "You did all this yourself. You can't juggle two lovers in your life and expect them to be okay with it when shit hits the fan. You and River deserve each other." Something twigged in her head. "What do you mean always? Since when has the Master been so out to get you? Is there something else you're not telling me?"

"Yes!" the Doctor said sullenly and her eyes narrowed to slits. "He was there. At the orphanage. The Master was there. But he went by a different name back then, The Ringleader…"

* * *

_"Well, well, well," the Master chuckled as he jumped out the window and squared up to the Doctor. "You're not dead then," he smiled at the thought, as the Doctor glared furiously at him. "Imagine my surprise upon seeing you with Miss Oswald last night," he snarled. "You ruined my Halloween party simply by being alive. I was so happy when you and the Piggy burned. Did he squeal as he died?"_

_The Doctor required all his calm not to punch the Master there and then. "Going by Ringleader no longer then?" he replied. "I suppose Master is a bit more…you. I escaped that damned orphanage, and I wasn't about to let you ruin my new life. Stay away from Clara."_

_"No," the Master smiled wickedly. "Should I tell her? Tell her about the fire that killed Craig, the fire you started, presumably to cover your little escape?"_

_"You wouldn't," the Doctor snarled. "And she'd never believe you if you did. If you lay a finger on Clara, I will kill you. Don't doubt it."_

_"Oh I don't," the Master growled. "After all, you've killed before. Craig, our parents, oh yes!" he snarled as the Doctor flinched. "Don't think I've forgotten that either, my dear Smith."_

_"Saxon," the Doctor snarled. "Leave them out of this."_

_"You left me an orphan!" he yelled, so loudly the Doctor was worried someone would overhear, even though they were deep in the woods. "I was stuck in that hell hole for over ten years, because of you. I will never forgive you, and I will never forget. I made that place hell for you, but consider what is coming so much worse. I will burn everything you love. If you love Clara Oswald keep away from her Doctor, because I will burn her. The way you burned Craig. The way our families burned. I will leave you alone, bitter and destroyed. You're doing physics are you? That secret project of yours, there are rumours about it. I will steal it, you know. You can't win. You may have escaped the orphanage but that was just a brief respite from the storm I will bring down on you. Thank you," he whispered his voice so happy that it sent shockwaves through the Doctor. "Thank you so much for being alive. I hated you so much for so long. You got lucky. You got out. Yes, you managed it by dying but at least you were free from it. I got shunted from orphanage to orphanage, until I was 18 and finally able to come here. I will make you pay Doctor. For the 8 years you escaped my wrath, for my parents. For everything. I will come for you. And by the time I'm done, you'll be begging me to let you go and see your parents. With any luck, you'll stay alive long enough to watch your world burn, but I wouldn't blame you if you jumped ship before then."_

_The Doctor grabbed him by the neck and the Master cackled. The Doctor released him, taking as many deep breaths as he could. He had to stay calm. Saxon couldn't hurt him. Couldn't hurt Clara. He wouldn't let Saxon harm a hair on her head._

* * *

"He was the bully at the orphanage," the Doctor said, deciding to leave out most of it. Clara could never know about all the deaths on his conscience. "The chief bully. He tortured me relentlessly the entire time we were there until it burnt down and I escaped. He's angry. Angry because I got to escape the place and live my own life, while he suffered in care. There's nothing to be done about it, he wants to destroy me."

"Well," Clara snapped, her voice hurting him more than any of the Master's beatings. "I hope you two work out your little revenge strategy, because I'm gone. Goodbye Doctor, I hope you find happiness with River."

The Doctor screamed after her until his voice was hoarse but she had wheeled away, crying and then Clara Oswald walked out of his life.


	17. Chapter 17: John Smith

***Hello everyone! First off, a tiny bit of negative feedback towards Clara, which I can understand as it ran through my head writing it. I want her to really develop as a character and you'll see this later on but right now she's very distrustful and hurt and doesn't feel she deserves the Doctor. Anyway, this is the last major cliffhanger chapter for a while but it is a big 'un and I apologise for that. So, I hope everyone's enjoying the story and at the moment I'm planning on writing some short prompts, so either drop a prompt in my ask box on tumblr: whovianmachine or PM me on here, I'll post them on both. I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter and thank you so much to everyone that's reviewed, read, favourited and followed, keep up the good work you wonderful people. TPD***

* * *

Clara had never felt worse. Well, almost never. She point-blank refused to let the Doctor's ultimate betrayal make her feel as bad as the day her mother had died. He wasn't worth it; he was just another stupid boy who had broken her heart. Annabelle had said very little to her about it in the week since she had moved into her spare room and Clara had told her next to nothing. She didn't want to tell anyone. With Jessie, she had been happy to let the world know how much of an arsehole he was but the Doctor was different. She had loved him completely and he loved her the same. She knew that much. But she wouldn't, couldn't let herself be pulled in by him. It made no sense to her, this entire mess, but she knew that he had lied to her. A lot of lies. He had been lying to people his entire life; it was second nature to him. How could she possibly be with someone who was such an accomplished liar, that she would never suspect him for a second? But now she knew how good at it he was, even the simple things he said she would have to question and she couldn't spend the rest of her life second guessing everything he said. She needed to escape, get out of the confusing and horrific nightmare that had become her best friend. Ever since the night Jessie had broken up with her, only two weeks or so earlier, her life had transcended into insanity. The Doctor had been an arsehole, then confessed his love for her, disappeared to have sex with River Song for four days and then pitched back up, they'd had sex and then they'd gotten together only for Clara to discover that he'd been lying to her for so damned long. Nothing made sense anymore.

She hadn't seen him, thankfully, although she was surprised that he hadn't tried something, anything to get back in touch with her. Her phone remained text free, he hadn't pitched up in any of her lectures and she was fairly certain he knew where Annabelle lived. Maybe he'd given up to be with River, she told herself and she wasn't sure if that made her feel better or worse. Probably the latter. She needed her mother, now more than ever. Clara had slipped back into old habits, drinking every night and waking up feeling shitter than before. She had gone back to a guy's house one night but had had a complete breakdown on his carpet and he'd kicked her out. She was grateful. She didn't particularly want meaningless sex, she felt as if doing it was somehow justifying what the Doctor had been doing for so long.

She didn't feel as though she'd gotten anywhere. The façade was back up and on full throttle. Annabelle kept asking if she was alright, but all she got for her trouble was pleasantries and Clara insisting that everything was fine. Words had become meaningless for Clara; nothing anyone said was true, so why should she open up to anyone? Clara was damaged goods and telling anyone that wasn't going to fix her. She wasn't fixable. She'd thought, for one shining moment, that the Doctor was going to, but that had turned out to be horseshit. When you were as broken as Clara Oswald was, only people equally fucked up went near you. The Doctor was a lying sociopath, she realised that now and dwelling on him was only going to make her feel worse. Clara needed to move on with her life and stop trying to let people in. Her mother had left her, the Doctor had left her and people like Jessie and her father inevitably ended up doing more and more damage to her than actually fixing anything. Each person she interacted with left her a little bit more broken, until there was nothing left to fix. Clara felt hollow, like an empty shell.

It wasn't until she saw him again that she realised how much she missed him. She caught a glimpse of him as she was walking back to Annabelle's. He was picking up chips and although it was only a look across the street, she recognised him instantly and something broke within her. He was still wearing the bow tie. That didn't mean anything, she told herself but then he looked towards her and her heart caught in her throat.

"Doctor," she whispered, but he hadn't stopped walking and neither had she. Within a few moments, he was gone.

Clara tried not to dwell on it as she carried on walking, but the simple truth was that the Doctor had had such a big impact on her life that she didn't know how she was going to cope without him. She turned a corner and once again, her eyes narrowed to slits as she bumped into River Song.

"River," she said curtly, trying to step past the older woman. "I suppose you're looking for the Doctor, his house is just down the road, get out of my way please."

"Clara," River said urgently. "We need to talk. Quickly. Someone is after you. I met him the other day, he pickpocketed my phone and then he brought you to me. I got suspicious so I found out where he lived and kept a close eye on him. He's sending his goons after you, you need to get home and get inside. Listen, whatever you may think of me Clara, I care about the Doctor," she implored Clara and Clara flinched at the sheer sound of his name. "Since I saw you, he texted me saying he never wants to see me again. He loves you Clara, but he doesn't love me. And the Master knows that, he wants to use you as bait now that the Doctor has finally finished his damned prototype, for what I don't know. But I don't want to see you hurt, so get inside and safe, now."

"River," Clara groaned, desperate to be out of this. "The Doctor and I are through and there's nothing anyone can do about that. The Master probably knows that and I doubt he'll send anyone after me. Thanks for the warning but I was heading home anyway, so I wouldn't worry too much. And I'm sorry about the Doctor but I don't want to hear anything more from him or you, if that's alright with you."

Clara knew she was being rude but she didn't care, she stormed past River, trying to let her façade break as she thought about the Doctor. Weakness overtook her. He'd dumped River, what did tell her? Nothing, he was probably angry at her for spilling and looking for a new release, she thought, disgusted. She heard River shout her name from behind her and swirled to see two blokes her age, dressed in balaclavas had snuck up on her. Clara kicked one in the shins and tried to run but the other one grabbed one, putting her into a choke hold. Clara kicked and screamed but her vision blurred and quickly turned to black…

* * *

The knocks on his door were frantic. The Doctor took another swig of whiskey. He had been drinking and working solidly for a week now. The week of hell. Ever since his past had caught him up and Clara had left him, he had been alone and disconsolate. The sonic was almost finished, it only needed one more tweak, and he would have it within three days. The Master would not take anything else from him. Not the sonic, not the house. He swigged again, the whiskey burning his throat but he didn't care. The knocking had continued and someone was shouting his name now. The Doctor rolled his eyes and stumbled to his feet; making it to the door and throwing it open, revealing River Song. He shut the door but she wedged her foot in it, following him inside as he ignored her.

"What do you want River?" he asked, his voice plain and emotionless. "I don't want to see you anymore, you cost me Clara."

"First of all," River snapped. "You're a fool if you think that what happened between you and Clara is anyone's fault other than your own. And secondly, it doesn't matter. The Master, he has Clara." This snapped the Doctor into action, he was on his feet. "He sent a couple of his goons to collect her. They threw her in the back of a van, I got the licence plate. They had known I was watching them, so when I found Clara to warn her about them, they ambushed her. They gave me this to give to you."

She handed the Doctor an envelope and he ripped it open, scanning the message inside. It was a warning of course. Various threats to Clara, telling the Doctor to meet them in a disused warehouse outside of town, address given, with all the blueprints for his sonic, by midnight, alone or they'd start hurting Clara. He swore loudly and ran back to his room, River following.

"Doctor what is it?" she asked frantically. "What are you going to do?"

"They want my blueprints, the prototype blueprints," the Doctor told her, as he rummaged through his things. "I'm going to give them to him. I don't have a choice. He won't kill me, but he could kill Clara, he's capable of it. You have to understand River; the Master is a single-minded being. He only cares about revenge. I killed his parents," the Doctor said quietly and River's eyes bulged. "And now he's going to burn my world apart. Starting with Clara. Unless I stop him. Don't follow me," he snapped. "Go home, forget you saw any of this. If I take any support in there, Clara's as good as dead. River, for once, just do as I say!"

If River was going to follow him, she didn't say so. She merely nodded and left, giving the Doctor time to mull over his plans and decide what the best way to get Clara out alive was.

* * *

Clara was awoken by someone throwing cold water in her face. She choked on it, coughing and spluttering as she tried to move. Her hands and feet were wedged into place and she couldn't move at all, except to flail slightly. She was stood up at least, on a table of some sort she reckoned and she yelled out as it rotated, spinning her for a few seconds, making her want to vomit, until it eventually stopped and she was back where she started. She heard laughter, wicked, evil laughter and she wanted to cry. Lights, flooded on and she was blinded for a moment before she was able to see. The Master was stood in front of her, his eyes dark as night and cold as ice. His smile terrified her and she didn't mind admitting it. There was nobody else in the room. There was a giant clock behind him that informed her it was half past ten at night.

"Where am I?" Clara gasped. He took a few steps forward and punched her in the gut. She tried to keel over but couldn't, the resulting manoeuvre sending her spinning and this time she did vomit, all over herself. Clara felt pitiful.

"Don't speak," the Master cooed. "I hate it when my pets make noise. I hate having to hurt you Clara, but you need to be a bit bloodied up by the time Smith gets here."

"His name," Clara spat defiantly. "Is the Doctor."

The Master rolled his eyes and punched her in the face this time, her nose splitting and blood pouring down her face.

"HIS. NAME. IS. JOHN. SMITH." The Master screamed. "And I warned you not to speak. Next time, I will break your arm." It wasn't a threat but a promise. "Now Clara, I don't want to make your last hours on this planet a misery but I can do that. Behind you, you'll see the reason we are here, in this disused warehouse. It's an old iron factory, where they melted down the iron to be turned into, whatever it was they did with it, to be frank I don't really care. Now, the factory has been disused for years, but then I am a genius. It wasn't hard for a man of my talents to repair the furnace, to make it operational. You can't see it from your current position, but behind you is a conveyor belt. You see, the Doctor thinks that when he gets here, he'll be able to just give me the blueprints to his sonic pulsar unit and then you'll be free. How boring. I couldn't give a fuck about his pulsar unit," the Master spat, throwing another couple of punches into Clara's stomach for good measure, causing her to yelp in pain and spit blood, which was running down her face. The Master didn't like that one bit and spun her again, Clara vomited again and then she was right side up, covered in her own blood and sick.

"No, you see, when he gets here, he'll be restrained. Then, he'll get to watch, as I place you down on that conveyor belt and it takes you into the furnace. He will watch, as you boil Clara Oswald. I would love to pretend it won't hurt, but I'm going to raise the temperature slowly, so you feel hotter and hotter, the agony will last what remains of your lifetime and the Doctor will hear your screaming. Your agony will be his agony and he will finally learn the true meaning of revenge. You see Clara, the Doctor may have mentioned, we knew each other at the orphanage."

"He said you were a bully at the orphanage," Clara said weakly. "He said you called yourself the Ringleader and made it your mission to make his life hell until he escaped after the night of the fire." The Master snapped her arm. Clara screamed in pain, her own voice howling as he cackled.

"Don't say you weren't warned," he giggled and Clara shut up instantly. "Want to try a broken leg next?" She stayed silent. "Ah yes, the night of the fire. Did he ever tell you that he started it?" Clara shook her head, tears finding her eyes. She didn't believe him, couldn't believe him. "Oh yes, he started the fire that killed his only friend," the Master cackled. "He blames himself for it of course, just like he'll blame himself for your death. But of course, Craig's death wasn't his fault." Clara's eyes widened. "He may have started the fire, but Craig would have followed his plan. He would have climbed out the window as planned and followed the Doctor to freedom. But I'd paid the fat piece of shit a visit that morning, you see," the Master crowed. "And I knocked him out. Drugged him. The fatty burned because I locked him in his room when I saw the fire and he was too drugged to escape. I killed Craig, but the Doctor will forever blame himself. You see Clara," the Master's voice had changed suddenly and it scared her more than ever. It had picked up a sad hue.

"I knew the Doctor before the orphanage," he said quietly. "The Saxon and Smith families were good friends. The Doctor told everyone new at the orphanage that he'd been there since he was three. That was his little story. He probably told it to you as well. It was a lie. We were six." Clara's heart had stopped. He'd told her he was three. "Our families had converged for a little get together at the Saxon mansion. It was a fine event. The parents had sent little Johnny Smith up to my room to play. The little bastard always was too smart for his own good, even then. He suggested we go and find something interesting to play with, so we broke into my parents' lab. My parents were chemists," the Master said quietly and Clara realised he'd been holding this in for his whole life. Waiting to tell someone. And now he was telling her, because she wasn't going to live to tell anyone. "They knew the Smiths from work. But they had a lot of dangerous chemicals in the lab, which is why I was never allowed in there. The doors were locked and bolted shut. Nothing a bit of lock-picking couldn't fix and John was always very good at lock-picking. So we got inside and he had a special chemical reaction that he wanted to test. He claimed that he wasn't quite sure what it would do, but that there was no way it could be dangerous. He was interested, but he was arrogant. He thought he knew everything. So when things went wrong, because of course they went wrong, he panicked. We both did and we ran. Our parents heard the commotion and went into the lab to find out what was wrong. The explosion killed them all."

The Master fell into silence and Clara was stunned. The Doctor. The man she loved. She felt like a terrible person but all she felt for him was pity. As a child, to have accidently killed your parents and your only friend was way too much of a burden for one person to bear. No wonder he lied. No wonder he'd done nothing but lie. The truth about him was too horrible to tell anyone, and it had been his burden. He needed River because he was so scared of hurting Clara, because he didn't know how to deal with everything. And now that Clara knew the truth, now that there were no secrets, maybe, just maybe, he could be honest with her. If they made it out of this alive.

"Well Miss Oswald, that is my story," the Master said quietly. "You can put the rest together. The Doctor and I were sent to the orphanage but I never could forgive him. I made his life hell for four years, but it wasn't enough. It never affected him. He just kept going, with a resilience and coolness that I couldn't believe. I was so angry but he never let me hurt him, not mentally anyway, I must've broken almost every bone in his body. Then, I learned about the fire. His escape. I stopped the fat one escaping but the Doctor got out. I hated him. I spent the next eight years in orphanages, while he was free to do whatever he wanted. Then, lo and behold, I found out where River Song worked and I knew he'd come here, once I learned about River that is. I'm very good at finding out things," he added almost as an afterthought. "And now, I will finally break him. After so long, I will finally take the one thing that the Doctor loves most and use it to sear out his heart. Clara Oswald, I just want to thank you. You made all this possible."

"The Doctor is twice the man you'll ever be," Clara spat, physically spitting blood onto him and not caring about the consequences anymore. "You're nothing but an angry child, looking to find vengeance for an accident that hurt him as much as it hurt you, probably more. After so many years and so much torment for both of you are you really going to let it destroy you? What happened turned him into a Doctor, turned him into the kindest man I've ever known. It turned you into a monster. You can hurt him but you'll never win. Because he is so much more than you and always will be. So you can break my bones and burn me alive, but the Doctor will still be the better man. Because that's who he is. He may be John Smith to you, but to me he has always been and always will be, the Doctor."

The Master smiled warmly at her and then her world divulged into pain. Clara heard her screams leave her body but she couldn't control them and the doors behind the Master flung open and three men were dragging in the Doctor.

"Ah!" the Master smiled. "The guest of honour is here! Let the party begin."

Clara could hear the Doctor yelling her name but he was a lifetime away from her, his voice melting into the surroundings. She shouted back, something along the lines of "I love you" but she couldn't be sure. She knew they were pretty pathetic last words but her entire world had become so fuzzy that nothing made sense to her anymore. She saw her mum, drifting in front of her and then she was laid on her side. She felt herself begin to move, the humming which she assumed was the conveyor belt. After a few moments, she felt the conveyor belt stop and then she felt hotter. Her mother had gone, disappeared and Clara was suddenly very aware of just quite how hot it was. She felt fire all around her and her hair was burning. Her skin was burning. Her clothes were burning. And then, Clara Oswald screamed.


	18. Chapter 18: The Doctor

***Hello everyone. Things are going to settle down a bit now but I hope you continue to enjoy the story. Keep sending me one shot prompts and check out my other stories. I've got a fairly good idea of where this is heading, it'll be quite a long story by the time it's done. I hope you enjoy this chapter, last time out things were hotting up (and no i take no credit for that pun). Thanks for everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited, please keep it up :) TPD***

* * *

Clara woke up. She hadn't been expecting that. All she could remember was fire. She opened her eyes and even that hurt. Her entire body was covered in bandages and she reached up to feel her face. That too was bandaged and Clara looked around, anxious. She was in a hospital, she could work out that much, but there was nobody in her room. Then, she caught sight of someone, just outside the door, who entered. The bow tie gave it away. She would have smiled if she could but her mouth was bandaged over, air holes plucked into her nose area. She looked up at the Doctor, her Doctor that was, not a real on, pleadingly and he smiled like he'd never been happier to see her.

"Clara," he said quietly. "Relax. You're absolutely fine. I know what you're thinking, but the bandages are just for precautions. They've got a special anti-burn fluid in them, you wouldn't understand how it works," he hadn't changed a bit. "In any case, you had first or second degree burns over like half your body, which is lucky, it could have been far worse. You weren't in that furnace very long; I got you out almost straight away. You were a right state when I pulled you out, black as soot, red raw. I was terrified I was too late, that you were going to die. But the paramedics pitched up and told me you looked a lot worse than you were. You've been sedated for a few days; they're planning on taking the bandages off in a few hours. You should be okay, but you'll be incredibly stiff and you'll feel wretched for a few days. But don't worry about that, I'm here to take care of you. There should be absolutely no lasting damage. You also had a broken arm, three broken ribs and some minor internal bleeding, not to mention your face was bust up. But that's just the medical stuff."

He took a deep breath. "Clara, I owe you an enormous apology. This entire mess is my fault. I don't know how much the Master told you, he was babbling like a lunatic when the police took him and his goons in. I called them, so you know. I brought them with me, so when I deactivated the furnace, they swooped in and took away the Master and goons. I walked into that room and you were there, I had never seen you look so scared. You were covered in blood and vomit and then you were sent into the furnace. So I acted. I head-butted one of the goons, kicked another one in the nuts and flipped the third over my head. The Master tried to stop me but I ran to you and I deactivated the furnace with this." He held out something and she tried to touch it but her arm refused to move. "I finally finished the prototype Clara and it works. It worked just in time to save you."

She wanted him to stop. She wanted to tell him that it was alright. That she was alright and he was alright, nothing else in the world mattered, but he was sobbing and it startled her. She didn't blame him, she never could. None of this was him, that was just what the Master wanted him to think.

"My name is John Smith," he said. "I wasn't found wandering the streets when I was three. When I was six, my parents, Arthur and Deborah Smith, took me to a party at the Saxon household." Clara wanted to stop him, wanted to tell him that he could stop, that she knew, that it was all okay. "That night, me and their son Harry Saxon broke into his parents chemistry lab and we played with some chemicals we shouldn't have. It was my fault," he cried, tears falling and she just wanted to reach out and soothe him. "I killed them. I killed all of them. There was an explosion and my parents and Saxon's parents all died. We were taken to the orphanage and he blamed me. Rightfully, of course. He tried to make my life hell but I withstood it. Because I deserved it Clara. I took my punishment, but then I decided I needed out. So when I was ten, I started a fire as a diversion to escape. And that fire killed my only friend in the world. Don't you see?" he sobbed and Clara was crying along with him.

"I killed my parents, I killed Craig. Everyone I love, everyone I care about ends up dead because of me. So when I escaped the orphanage, I went into seclusion, determined never to talk to anyone again. And then I met River Song. And things changed, everything changed. But you know about that," he added hurriedly. "I have no desire to put you through that ever again. Well everything changed and when I came here, I met you." He paused. "I should have walked away. I should never have sat next to you in that philosophy lecture. I should never have made you breakfast or extended my friendship. Because I should have known that this would happen. The more I fell in love with you, the more I knew that all I was doing was putting you in danger. But I couldn't resist. You meant too much to me. And then everything turned to shit. With Jessie and me and I didn't know what was going on, it was like a whirlwind. But I knew that I loved you. And then when I heard you were captured, I would have done anything to stop you ending up here. You know, there's one more thing I never told you," he said, smiling now. Clara wanted more than anything to hold him and tell him everything would be okay.

"That night, the night I saved you from the Master. I told you I was running there by chance. That was a lie. I knew the Master was there and I knew you were there and in truth, I was checking up on you. I'm really glad I did." He was blushing. "Sorry Clara, but I need to go. You deserve someone who won't bring you pain and misery. Your dad's here of course. Don't worry, he didn't bring Bitch-Face, I told him not to. He'll take care of you when I leave. I'll stick around until you're better but then I'm moving on. The government want my sonic and I've got a big job, big office, big field tests, it's all very important. I'm off to London next week to sort it all out."

She was so proud. And so happy. But all she wanted was to ask him not to go, to stay with her forever. But she couldn't. A nurse came in and told the Doctor to leave but as he stood, Clara made all the commotion and rattling she could until the nurse looked at her.

"I think she's trying to say something," the Doctor said pointedly and the nurse bit her lip, before pulling back some of the bandages around Clara's mouth so she could speak.

"Don't," she hissed, her voice hoarse and quiet from lack of use. "Don't throw him out. I want him to stay."

The nurse reluctantly agreed and the Doctor said beside her, taking her bandaged hand occasionally. Her dad joined him not long after and Clara beamed at them both. A few hours later, a handsome young doctor, called Dr Perth, removed all her bandages and Clara felt herself slowly but surely able to move as they removed all her annoying tubes and things. She couldn't go home for another day or two, but she was able to sit up and talk.

"Clara," her dad said urgently. "How do you feel sweetie?"

"Wretched," Clara wheezed. "I love you, you know? Both of you. I love both of you so much. I'm so sorry for everything I put you both through. And dad," he looked at her hopefully. "Can I have a few minutes alone with the Doctor?"

He smiled and nodded and dragged the nurses out with him so that it was only Clara and the Doctor left in the room.

"Hello Soufflé girl," he whispered.

"Hello Doctor," she said proudly. "My Doctor. You know, I already knew what you had to tell me. He told me everything, the Master I mean. And it's okay. It's absolutely and completely okay. I understand now, I see why you lie, why you hide so much from everyone. But you're incredible. The Master turned his life into hate and you made yours kind. And I love you for that. So much. I love you Doctor and I want to be with you. No more stupidity from either of us. Because we've both been pretty stupid," she laughed and he agreed. "But there's one more thing you need to know. Craig. He didn't die because of you," she smiled at him and his look of shock. "The Master drugged him and trapped him in his room. So when the fire started, it wasn't your fault, it was his. You blame yourself for all these bad things that have happened but you were a child, Doctor. You didn't kill anyone, and as much as you blame yourself for these accidents, that's never going to change."

"Clara," he said his voice full of love. "My Clara. You've made me feel better."

"You make everything better," she whispered. "So, London?"

"Yes," the Doctor scowled at this and she wanted to cry. "I'm off next week, I have no idea how long I'll be down there for. You're better off without me Clara; I need to work on the sonic screwdriver project."

"No I'm not better off without you!" she snapped and then something twigged and she found herself smiling. "I thought it was a sonic pulsar device?"

"Nah," he grinned from ear to ear. "It's a screwdriver."

* * *

The next few days passed quickly for Clara. She patched things up with her dad and texted Annabelle, Britney and Josie who had all been in to check on her. Jessie had popped in to check up on her and it had taken any ounce of self-restraint for the Doctor not to start in a brawl in the hospital. Clara appreciated that he didn't. When she was back in her flat, she decided that it wouldn't be the same place without the Doctor there. They talked a lot, but never really answered the questions they were both too afraid to ask, what would happen to them when he left? The Monday after her release, the Doctor went down to London, promising to call her. He told her by phone that he'd be back on Saturday once everything had been worked out. Clara told him she loved him and he didn't hesitate to reply. Her dad insisted on staying but Clara knew she would be suffocated with him there so he headed back to Blackpool. Physically, she was fine but after dealing with the police, hospital people and everyone doting on her, she just wanted to get into the swing of things.

She went back to lectures on that Monday, another optional module in philosophy sandwiched between two English lectures. Annabelle was especially attentive to Clara in their first lecture and she was much appreciative. The news of her attack had rippled of course, but nobody knew the true reasons behind it except her and the Doctor. The psychiatrists who had assessed the Master had claimed he was mentally unstable and of course, the authorities already knew about the deaths of his and the Doctor's parents and the fire at the orphanage. Like Clara, they had already assessed that they were the actions of a child, disturbed and in need of therapy. They were leaving the Doctor alone, but recommending that he go back into therapy in London. Clara snorted at that. She had also been recommended by the university to go to some kind of counselling but that was never going to happen and it wasn't enforced.

Clara was feeling better by the time her philosophy lecture rolled around. The normalcy of the previous lecture had been refreshing, although she noticed a few pairs of eyes shooting sympathetic and curious glances at her. Her face was still swollen and her left arm was in a sling. It wasn't too badly broken and she was right handed, so she'd muddle through for the few weeks until it was better, but her dad wasn't comfortable with her living alone, so Annabelle had agreed to let Clara sleep in her spare room until the Doctor came back. She was a local and had her own flat, having moved out when her parents had decided to start charging her rent. If he came back, Clara thought wistfully.

Clara settled in for philosophy, a module on various influential 20th Century philosophers and whether or not we have it and a boy slipped into the empty space to her right. She glanced at him wearily. He was gangly, was her first instinct, skinny and tall. 'Why was everyone so gangly?' she asked herself. His jet black hair was short and tousled and he had soft brown eyes that reminded her of her mother. And her own eyes, Clara realised. But his smile was what grabbed her. It was soft, kind and immediately put her at ease. She was normally very hostile around strangers, particularly blokes who were slightly attractive and he was. He pushed his glasses up his nose and pulled out a tissue as he sneezed, a resounding noise that knocked Clara out of her stride momentarily. He was wearing a grey cardigan and jeans that were slightly too big for him.

"Apologies," the boy grinned sheepishly. "The name's Tom. Tom Parker. Fresher."

"Clara," Clara returned the gesture, slightly stiffly and annoyed at herself for being rude. "Clara Oswald. I'm a second year."

"A second year taking this module?" he smirked at this, but his heart wasn't in it. "I take it you're not from around these parts? Philosophy," he clarified awkwardly as she raised an eyebrow at that. "Most first years take this as their option."

Clara nodded understandingly. Normally, the Doctor was with her in these lectures, which was why she had been sat alone and probably looked quite vulnerable, what with her face and arm. But the boy seemed harmless enough. As the lecture wore on, she found him to be very amicable and he stood to let her out when the lecture ended.

"Care to grab a coffee?" he asked cheerily as they strolled up the steps. Clara felt her heart sink. He had just been interested in asking her out after all.

"Sorry," she replied as cheerfully as she could manage, trying not to let her icy thoughts enter her speech. It wasn't really his fault. "I've got a lecture after this," she informed him. "And a boyfriend," she added quickly.

"Why would you having a boyfriend be an issue?" Tom Parker asked. Clara judged his face. His question could mean two things. Either he was going to try it on with her despite the fact she had a boyfriend, or he wasn't interested in her. Judging by the genuine confusion on his face, she guessed the latter. "Ohh," he smiled embarrassed as he realised what she'd been thinking. "I'm such a douche," he laughed and Clara found herself smiling. "You're not my type Clara Oswald. I don't know much about your previous experience with my gender but not all guys are pigs who are only interested in one thing," he chuckled and she found herself unable to disagree with him. "Another time then, maybe you could bring your boyfriend along?" his kind smile warmed Clara's heart. "I'll see you on Thursday afternoon Clara."

* * *

And that he did. Clara was running slightly late and he waved her over when she arrived to the lecture. She found herself walking in his direction and throwing her stuff down next to him. She was miserable. She hadn't heard from the Doctor since Monday and her arm was really starting to itch. He thrust a muffin in front of her when she sat down and she frowned at him, confused by the gesture. He shrugged.

"Came free with my tea," he explained. "I don't eat muffins, so I didn't want it and figured you might like it. It's chocolate, I had to take a stab and you look like a chocolate person."

Clara bit into the muffin tentatively. It was delicious and it made her feel sad to realise that she'd grown so suspicious of people that a guy couldn't do something nice for her just for the sake of it without her questioning it. After the lecture, she decided to accept Tom's offer of a coffee and they went to the café.

"So what's your story?" Tom asked, stirring milk and sugar into his cup as Clara did likewise. "How'd you end up with that broken arm? Fall out a window or something? My brother once fell off our garden fence, I laughed for about ten minutes before I realised the idiot had actually broken his arm."

His tone was light and friendly but the mere mention of her arm made her prickle up and become cold and closed off. He seemed to spot that because he bit his lip nervously.

"Sorry," Clara replied on instinct. "It was just…a traumatising experience," she confessed, thinking back to how she was burning and in pain and shuddering at the memory. "Can we talk about something else? Where are you from? What's your story?"

"My story?" Tom sipped his tea thoughtfully. "Born and bred in Leicester, me, my parents and my little sister. A-levels, aced them, ended up here. Always loved thinking, kept myself up at night pondering the universe. Wanted to do philosophy and here I am. Pretty boring in all honesty, no major family drama except the time my sister got her navel pierced and I thought my dad was going to pass out," he chuckled and Clara smiled at this little anecdote, despite the fact that she felt pangs of envy at his family life. She had forgotten that not everyone was kind because of some family tragedy. "Dated a girl called Lizzie for six months, broke up before coming here. What about you? I'm picking up a Northern accent?"

"Everyone always does," Clara muttered under her breath, and gesturing to indicate it was fine when Tom went red. "Blackpool. Grew up there, only child. Came down here after A-levels, the usual sort of thing." She paused here, unsure if to launch into a dead mum spiel or not. Usually she'd hold back, but maybe it was the painkillers she'd been taking or her loneliness. "My mum died when I was 16. That was pretty rough," she admitted. "Met my boyfriend here at uni, he kind of rescued me." Tom's face had flickered with pity and settled on a warm, comforting smile. "I'm okay," Clara told him, but the tear running down her cheek betrayed her.

"Your boyfriend," Tom said quietly. "He sounds like quite a guy."

"He's the best," Clara admitted. "He's the kindest person on the planet and he's looked after me since the day we met. It took us so long to get together and now…now he's got to go to London and I don't know what's going to happen…"

Clara was holding back tears and she hated this. Hated that she was so alone and vulnerable and about to cry in front of a guy she had barely known five minutes. He was eyeing her up and down, a frown on his face and his lower lip being rolled around by his teeth. He took a long draft of tea and contemplated every word before he spoke.

"Clara, if two people love each other," he began. "Then they learn to deal with everything life can throw at them. You've obviously had more to deal with than most, but if you hold tight to what is important, then I'm sure you and he can find a way to work things out. London's just over an hour by train and it's not as if university is the rest of your lives. As hard as it can be, sometimes you have to play the long game."

His words were logical and in another voice they might have sounded cold, but coming from Tom Parker's mouth, they were as reassuring as anything Clara could have heard. She summoned up all her strength and drank her tea, letting her tears fade back where they belonged, inside her. Tom was watching her, a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. She hated pity more than anything, but she knew that it was unavoidable.

"You philosophers," Clara said eventually. "You always find the most long winded and complicated explanations to simple problems."

"No problems are simple," Tom responded and that smirk that didn't quite suit him made a reappearance. "Complex problems just like to disguise themselves and lull you into thinking there's a simple solution. For example, the simple solution to your problem is for your boyfriend to not move to London, but every decision has consequences and there are so many offshoots from it, be they guilt or anger or some other complex emotional result."

Clara knew he was right of course. She and the Doctor were forced to play the long game. They couldn't shy away from complex questions any longer. Their relationship was still undefined, unclear and the whole London mess made it even less clear. She didn't know what she was going to do or how she was going to do it. But she knew that hiding from what was to come was not a solution and like it or not, she had to find some way to be with the Doctor.

"What's his name?" Tom asked as he took another sip, his cup nearly empty now although Clara was barely half-finished. She let a smile, full of all her love and affection for the Doctor shoot up to her face and she looked at Tom who was still eyeing her precariously.

"His name," she smiled. "Is the Doctor."


	19. Chapter 19: Life Moves On

***Hey troops, thanks for sticking with this story. A lot of ground to cover in this chapter and a lot more of Tom Parker. He's going to be around a lot from now on as I really want to thrust his character into the heart of what I see as the Second Act of this story. You're going to find out a lot about him, including why he's so interested in Clara, which is one of the primary focuses of this chapter. Also, there's more Annabelle and Ten to come in subsequent chapters, plus Dave will make a reappearance shortly. I really want to expand the Doctor and Clara's world a bit more now that they've finally told each other how they feel and more than that, I want to push the characters out of their comfort zone a bit. I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter, it's an early upload today to give me plenty of time to race away, I've been cut down to less than a 5 chapter lead here and I've got a busy week, so I need to finish Chapter 25 tonight if I can. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and as ever, thanks for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting and please keep doing so, I love all the feedback I'm getting. Feel free to also drop me a Whouffle prompt, be it one word or a proper storyline, I'll upload the one-shots within a few hours. Lot's of love, The Potter Doctor.***

* * *

Clara heard the door to the flat open and close and her heart skipped a beat. She had been in bed for hours, lying awake and staring at the ceiling until around noon she had decided to get up and make herself some food. She'd returned to the little flat she shared with the Doctor the previous night, so she would be here when he returned from London. She heard him sigh wearily and trudge towards her, but his obviously annoyed face lit up when he saw her. She immediately reached a hand to her messy, slightly shorter after the fire, hair and wished she'd at least put on a little makeup or changed out of her onesie but the smile on his face made her realise that he truly didn't care about any of that. Her own mouth was starting to hurt from being pressed so widely but she couldn't stop it if she wanted to.

"We have a lot to talk about," he said, weaving around the counter so that he was stood just inches away from her. His hand went up to cup her cheek and she gazed into his eyes. Her own hand that wasn't broken was around his neck and she stood so their lips were almost touching.

"Yes," Clara admitted. "Yes we do." Then she leaned forward and their lips were touching. The intimacy of the kiss felt like heaven and she pulled him in closer so that their bodies were pressed together. Their tongues moved in tandem and their working hands were already in each other's hands, tangled and tugging. Clara was pushing him backwards, so they staggered out of the kitchen, still intertwined and it wasn't until they were falling backwards onto her bed that she addressed the clothing issue. His jacket was discarded and thankfully he was only wearing a shirt underneath, which she frantically unbuttoned as he pulled down the zipper on her onesie. Clara stepped out of her clothing as the shirt went flying. They were apart for a moment before their lips were back on each other's, trousers and underwear dispatched on both sides. Now both completely naked, the Doctor's tongue had moved south and Clara let out little moans of pleasure as he worked his magic. She returned the pleasure and for a moment, they were interlocked in their pleasure. Then he entered her and she felt herself squeal in delight. He set a rhythm and Clara's entire body craved him, warmth gushing to every small part of her and she gave into it, biting down heavily on the Doctor's shoulder and her muffled screams of his name rippled down her body. And then it was over and he was lying beside her, panting and grunting as she gasped for air, her thoughts consumed by him.

She loved the fact that he looked at her afterwards. Not just the way he looked at her, the hunger in his eyes as he drank in every inch of her, but the simple fact that he did look at her. Often, Jessie would roll away and not speak to her, but with the Doctor, he never took his eyes off her. Reminding her that it was HER he wanted to be with, loved and had just had sex with. It was like a silent promise that he'd never leave her and it made Clara giddy. He'd been so careful, the entire time as well, being tender with her and making sure he never trapped her arm. Then, he sighed heavily and moved, just an inch, so he was closer to her, absorbing her warmth. He was holding like she'd never been held before, as if he was desperate. As if letting her go for an instant would result in him never being able to hold her again. She could feel it oozing from him, anxiety. Anger and anxiety.

"Six months," he said so quietly that she doubted she would have heard him was his mouth not less than a foot from her ear and she shot him a look of confusion. "I'll have to be in London for six months while everything works out. The prototype needs practical work and the facility they're setting up can't function without me. After that," he paused. "After that I'll be able to run the show from here, but six months is too long away from you."

Clara was frozen, her veins turning to ice despite how hot and steamy she had been moments before. Six months was an incredibly long time. They were in November. That meant he'd be gone until May. Exam season. Joy. She wanted to ask so many questions. Her birthday was in a few weeks, Christmas, all those things he wouldn't be around for. She was tearing up and she sensed he was too. He looked at her and she wanted him to stop, because looking into his eyes was too difficult. She agreed, six months was too long.

"I can cope," she said, words that were not only blatant lies but a shock to her as she didn't remember telling herself to say them. "You have to do this. When do you need to go back?" She knew the answer before he said it but it still felt worse than having her arm broken or her ribs cracked.

"Monday," he said, the words as much a blow to him as to her. "I'll be back every weekend," he promised. "Including your birthday. And I've got December 24th, 25th and 26th off, not to mention New Years. But you could come to London when you finish here anyway!" he said hurriedly, desperate to stop her from bursting into tears, although that was what she wanted. "I know I said that you are better off without me," he said and she winced at the words. "But I can't be without you. I didn't realise how tough this past week would be and I'm not ready to lose you. I have a lovely little flat, paid for by the company and the bed is big enough for both of us," she smiled at that. "And I'll keep paying the rent for this place," he promised. "So you don't have to worry about the landlord throwing you out."

His words were supposed to be comforting but all Clara could hear was him saying the words: 'Six months' over and over again, like a pendulum in her brain. She looked at him, resolute in her determination. She remembered Tom's words. Play the long game. She was in love with the Doctor and six months of being sporadically apart weren't going to change that.

"Don't worry about this place," she smiled. "Annabelle's said I can move into her spare room permanently, she doesn't mind at all. I'm really going to miss you," she whispered into his neck.

"And I'm going to miss you even more Clara Oswald," the Doctor replied, tears intermingling on Clara's cheeks. She didn't know whose were whose. "But I'll be here, every weekend. I promise. Saturday and Sunday, without fail. I'll do everything in my power."

"I know," Clara knew it would have to be enough.

* * *

The weekend passed far too quickly and then it was Monday again and the Doctor was gone. She felt shit and decided to take some shots of tequila, a decision she regretted about halfway through her first English lecture. Annabelle was really worried about her, Clara could tell and she could understand why. She went to the toilet after her lecture and vomited, replacing the lost alcohol on the way to philosophy. She must've looked as miserable as she felt because the look Tom was giving her was one of almost horror.

"You look like someone dragged you backwards through some brambles on the way here," he commented and she shot him a fierce look and offered him a shot. He waved it away and Clara shrugged before downing it herself. She put the bottle away and Tom was still looking at her.

"Six months," she spat and Tom nodded in understanding. "He's gone for six fucking months, and there's fuck all I can do except wait here for him to come back. I feel so fucking helpless and I feel pathetic for feeling helpless. What the fuck is wrong with me?"

"Well," Tom said with a hint of an idea in his voice and Clara's eyes narrowed him. "If you must insist on the solution being drinking yourself into an early grave," she snorted at that. "You're more than welcome to come to a party tonight at mine, Marston's, H-block. You could make some friends, try to find a way to deal with not having him around?" Clara eyed him up suspiciously and he shrugged. "You don't have to, I'm just trying to help."

"What's your deal?" Clara asked. "I mean seriously. You've been super nice to me. We've met now three times and every time you've been all sweet and nice and acting as though the sun shines out my arse, which it doesn't I'll have you know. So why? Why did you sit next to me? Why did you invite me out for coffee and now why are you asking me to a Fresher party?"

Her glare must've fazed him, because he looked sad. Taken-aback. It took him a minute or two to regain his composure and he bit his lip before smiling and looking at her.

"Clara," he said. "I don't know you. But I'd like to get to know you. You want the truth? I saw a girl with a black eye and a broken arm, sitting alone at the front of the lecture theatre. I've not made many friends in these lectures, if any at all and I felt really bad for you. Because you were alone, you looked miserable and I wanted to try and cheer you up. Now you've clearly had a lot of bad shit happen to you in your life and a lot of it recently, but every time I talked to you, you seemed to be handling it okay. You're angry Clara and you're suspicious of me because in your experience, people aren't nice without a reason. But honestly, I just am a nice guy. There's nothing more to it than that."

Clara absorbed this information. She could only imagine how she must look to him. Pitiful, no doubt although she suspected he would deny that if she said it. But his eyes and his smile matched his story. He genuinely did seem like he just wanted to help her. Clara looked at her reflection in his glasses. She was damaged goods and her façade had long since stopped protecting her. If even this first year philosopher could see how broken she was, then she was truly a lost cause.

"Okay," Clara replied. "I'll come to your stupid party."

* * *

His stupid party turned out to not be so stupid after all. It was a raucous affair, lasting long into the night with plenty of women in short dresses and blokes in suits. Everyone was really nice and friendly and Clara was relieved not to be the only second year there. She drank way too much and ended up passed out on a sofa in Tom's bedroom. She awoke the next morning to find him having left a note on the back of his door.

_Gone to lectures. Hope you had fun last night. If you need breakfast to sustain you, my fridge shelf is second from the bottom and my cupboard is far left. Ask someone if you need help finding them. See you round, you have my number. Tom _

She did have his number, she realised, a drunken addition from the night before. Scrolling through her texts, she saw nothing except a few embarrassing declarations of love for the Doctor, which he responded to in his usual enthusiastic manner. Either he was too dumb to realise she was drunk, or too kind to say anything. Both were equally likely, Clara reasoned. She had brought a change of clothes and showered in Tom's en-suite feeling slightly guilty but miles better afterwards. She had a glass of water and changed, heading out into the corridor where she almost bumped into Jaime, a girl from the night before.

"Clara, right?" Jaime asked with a casual nod. Clara nodded and they walked together into the kitchen as Jaime flipped the kettle on. Clara suddenly found herself ravenous but didn't want to abuse Tom's kindness further.

"Jaime," Clara clarified, earning her a smile from the other girl.

"I'm surprised you remember your own name after last night," the younger girl laughed. "You must've had two bottles of wine, that's enough to knock practically anyone, especially someone your size."

Jaime wasn't much bigger, but Clara took the bait. "I'm very good at drinking," she admitted, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in this strange environment. "Two bottles is nothing I can't handle." Jaime seemed impressed by this and pulled a face to indicate it. "I should be going," Clara said hurriedly, but then curiosity got the better of her and she turned back to Jaime. "Tom, what's he like?"

"Tom?" Jaime smirked and Clara rolled her eyes. "He's a nice guy. Sweet thing, head in the clouds. Wouldn't hurt a fly if you ask me. But despite the fact he is not a heavy drinker, he does his best to keep up and I respect that. If you're worried about him fucking you around…"

"No!" Clara said firmly. "He's just been very…kind and I don't understand why," Clara added honestly and she felt herself blush.

"Not every guy is an arsehole," Jaime shrugged. "Tom doesn't strike me as an arsehole. But then I've only known him a month or so. You want my advice, never trust a bloke who's too nice," Clara silently agreed to that. "But then equally, you can't look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe, just maybe, he actually wants to look out for you."

Clara hoped with all her heart that she was right.

* * *

Tom continued to be annoyingly nice to her on Thursday's lecture and into the following week and Clara found himself spending time with him outside of lectures, which she hadn't planned on doing with anyone. But it made her feel a lot better about the Doctor being gone. She also went out a couple of times with Annabelle and she felt slowly but surely as if she had a real life, not as if she was clinging to a precipice, dangling over the edge. And when the Doctor pitched up at the weekend, he made her world come alive. She mentioned Tom in passing and the Doctor seemed interested but there wasn't much for Clara to say in all honesty and the subject matter quickly changed. Even when he was gone, the Doctor was never far away. She texted him every night, until she fell asleep and he replied almost instantly every time. She didn't know how but even though he was miles away, she managed to sleep well, and feel loved. She was almost beginning to feel like the damage that had been done to her was actually repairing.

Her father called her, saying he was coming down for her birthday and that he had a special surprise for her. Clara couldn't wait, and it wasn't long before the 23rd November was rolling around again and all her favourite people would be in one place. Annabelle insisted on throwing a party, the Friday before her birthday in their flat. Clara threw on a pretty dress and Tom came over early to help set up. A bunch of girls that Clara knew from English and Britney and Josie were all over, plus a few guys she'd met through Tom. It wasn't much but it was enough for her. Well, almost enough. An hour into the party and she felt a pang of regret.

"Hello Closwald."

The name made her turn so fast her head span and her hair swished into his face as he kissed her. She hadn't been expecting him at all, as he normally arrived at noon on Saturday, so she squealed in delight and threw her arms around him. Their kiss was long and deep and it was the Doctor who eventually broke it off, muttering his apologies to her as he raced into her bedroom to take off his coat and throw down his suitcase. He arrived back, bow tie askew and grabbed a beer, sitting on the arm of the chair Clara had situated herself in.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, playfully swatting his arm and standing so he could slide down the chair and she could move to his lap. She practically had to drag him into the seat as he didn't seem to understand what she was doing and he went bright red when she plonked herself on his lap. It occurred to her that they'd not been a couple in public before and she was still processing this information.

"Well Annabelle told me about the shindig!" Annabelle rolled her eyes at this from the sofa. "And I got off work early to catch a train in time to make it. Well, I'm slightly late but it's your birthday! I couldn't resist."

"I love you, you know that Doctor!" Clara beamed and snogged him as the Doctor flailed slightly. Tom had plonked himself beside Annabelle and was grinning at them.

"So this is the boyfriend!" Tom said and Clara felt the Doctor freeze under her. She elbowed him as Tom extended out his hand and the Doctor shook it stiffly. "Pleasure to meet you Doctor, I'm Tom. Tom Parker. Clara's told me all about you."

"Play nice," Clara whispered in the Doctor's ear. "He's a great guy. And he's not trying to get into my knickers, I promise."

"No bad things I hope," the Doctor said to Tom with a smile and this earned him a snort of laughter that both Clara and the Doctor raised an eyebrow at.

"Sorry," Tom had suddenly found his beer very interesting. "It's just that I don't think Clara could say a bad word about you if you held a gun to her head. Not that I would of course," Tom added hurriedly and both Clara and the Doctor relaxed. "All I've heard for two weeks is Doctor this and Doctor that." Clara shot him a despairing look but the Doctor was smirking now.

"I like him," the Doctor whispered to Clara and then promptly turned back to Tom and launched into an interrogation about his thoughts on Jammy Dodgers and bow ties. Clara almost felt bad for him as she slid off the Doctor's lap to grab another drink, not feeling the need to overdo it on the vodka, which earned her a look of astonishment from Annabelle.

"Blimey Clara," she said sarcastically, her smile growing. "It's almost as if you don't need to drink extortionate amounts of alcohol to have a good time. We call that progress."

"Shut up," Clara teased back. "I'm happy," she admitted, a release of a sigh the best she could do to describe how so. "Really happy. I don't feel broken any more, I just feel happy."

The rest of the evening was a cheerful blur of friends and laughter. She was pretty sure that Tom hooked up with one of her friends from English on her sofa, but Clara wasn't entirely sure and in all honesty, didn't massively care. The Doctor seemed to like Tom and Tom would go on to tell her the next morning that he very much liked the Doctor, which was a huge weight off of her mind. The Doctor got very drunk, which Clara found both hilarious and adorable, although it did mean that his attempts to romance her that night were distinctly below average, although she didn't blame him for that. The next day also seemed to pass in a whirlwind as a vomiting Doctor promised that he'd give her the best sex of her life when he recovered, Annabelle took her out for breakfast and Tom apologised for violating their sofa before skulking back into the hole he came from, moaning about sunlight and wrapped up like a vampire. Her birthday was only a day away and Clara was looking forward to it, for the first time in a long time. Even the previous birthday, which had proved to be the best for a while, hadn't had the anticipation and build up that Clara was giving this one, because she'd been expecting so little from it.

And so, because things were going so very well for her and because Clara was extremely happy, that was when things suddenly decided to go wrong. Completely, suddenly and calamitously wrong. In retrospect, Clara would say, she should have realised. Because, she told the Doctor in a very fierce tone that meant the only thing he could do was nod along with her and agree to everything she said, if she could have placed a bet on one person fucking everything up for her, out of all the people she cared about and all the people who cared about her, it would have to be her father.


	20. Chapter 20: Birthday Surprises

***Hey peeps, your friendly neighbourhood Potter Doctor here. This is the Dave chapter I promised, we've got Annabelle's POV in the next one, plus some more insight into Tom Parker's intentions and then Chapter 22 is called: Ten. A lot of angry Clara in this chapter as well, so I hope you guys enjoy it and brace yourselves for some foul language! As ever, thanks so much to everyone who reads, reviews, follows and favourites, you guys make my day, week, month, year, everything. Please keep doing so. So, here we are.**

Clara's alarm clock was blaring and she reached out for it, but the Doctor had beaten her to the punch, flinging out an arm so fast she was convinced he was going to punch her in the face. He'd done that before, she recalled. A few times. Twice before they were together, his wild gesticulations had connected with her face and once more the previous weekend, where he'd managed to sock her in the jaw whilst reaching for a bow tie. She didn't know how he managed it, but every time he'd swear and curse and spend the next billion years apologizing until Clara was more annoyed at his attempts to make up for the tame punch than the tame punch itself. She'd told him that next time she'd just punch him back if it would shut him up and he agreed that seemed fair, although she doubted it would be that simple.

He kissed her good morning. Clara loved the taste of his morning breath, even though she was strongly reminded of gravy. It was an odd thing to love, but for her, it was a symbol that he had been there all night. Just like his mussed up hair or his tired, blinking eyes or the fact he wasn't wearing a bow tie. Considering how little he slept, she was always anxious that she'd wake up and he'd be gone, working on an experiment or worse, trying to fix her toilet or something. The first thing he said to her that morning was: 'Happy birthday Soufflé girl!' and it warmed her heart. She wanted the first thing she did on her birthday to be having sex with him and she informed him of that desire. She had clambered on top of him and was softly kissing his neck when Annabelle was hammering on her bedroom door.

"Your dad's here Clara," she yelled through the door and Clara cursed. "He's a bit early and um…"

Clara did not like the sound of that 'um'. Neither did the Doctor, as he frowned at her and they both stared at the door, desperately hoping that the next words out of Annabelle's mouth weren't the exact words she ended up saying.

"And he's brought someone with him. Her name is Mandy."

Clara punched the wall above the Doctor's head and he hid his head behind a pillow as Clara glared furiously down at him. She yanked it off him so she could explain her fury with her eyes and the Doctor rolled out from under her. They spent the next few moments having a silent argument, as Clara screamed mentally how much she wanted to kill something and the Doctor desperately begged her to be civil and try to keep her temper under control.

"Clara?"

"I'll be right out!" Clara said in a high-panicked voice that the Doctor knew she reserved for her father. They continued their silent shouting match as the Doctor pulled on trousers and a shirt, and Clara onesied up. She nudged towards the en-suite bathroom and the Doctor raised his eyebrows in indignation. Then, he gave in, shutting himself in the bathroom as Clara took a deep breath and opened her bedroom door. Annabelle was looking increasingly awkward as Bitch-Face and her father stood in the lounge of their home, smiling pleasantly. Clara refused to look at Bitch-Face.

"Hello daddy," she said, her bright, façade smile coming on like a charm.

"Clara!" he bounded over and wrapped his arms around her. "I've missed you kiddo. Happy birthday. How's the arm?"

In truth, Clara's arm was absolutely fine. The painkillers she'd been taking were not too bad at all and she was pretty sure another two weeks and she'd be able to take it out of the sling. She quickly explained that to her father, looking around for an exit strategy. As much as she loved her father, she wasn't about ready to explain that she'd been about to have birthday sex with her boyfriend.

"Where's the Doctor?" Bitch-Face chipped in and Clara required all of her muscle strength and tolerance not to shoot a laser accurate scowl her way. Instead, she laughed pleasantly, a sound that she didn't like but her father and Bitch-Face lapped up.

"He's at a hotel of course!" Clara chuckled. "Where else would he be?"

She shot a look at Annabelle who was in the kitchen, out of her father's eye line and silently laughing so hard she was crying, leaning on a work surface for support as she clutched her side.

"So he's not hiding in your bathroom?" her father asked with a smirk, as a crashing noise came from Clara's bedroom and at this point, Annabelle disappeared from vision, falling to the floor as her laughter finally became audible and she howled, banging the floor. Clara cursed the Doctor in her head as he came crashing out of the bedroom, his jacket sopping wet.

"Clara!" he yelled. "The shower is being all stupid again!"

Clara wanted to kill every single person in the room. She could start with Bitch-Face, then her father and the still shrieking with laughter Annabelle. She decided to leave wringing the Doctor's neck for last, but an amused smile escaped her lips anyway at the horrified look on his face. Only he could be scared of a shower head. Any other time and it would be positively adorable and make her fall in love with him all over again, but right now was not a good time or place.

"Hello Doctor," Bitch-Face greeted, as her dad raised an eyebrow at his daughter.

"Hello Dave," the Doctor smiled at him. "Mandy," he nodded. Clara glared at him, as if using Bitch-Face's name was an act of betrayal. He shrunk back like a small child. "I'll go and get changed," he said quietly and Clara felt prongs of guilt shoot through her as the Doctor shot into her bedroom. She hated being mean to her boyfriend, especially when it wasn't his fault she was pissed off and he was doing his best. Clara smiled warmly at her father and shrugged her shoulders as if to say: 'What are you going to do?'

"Sorry we're so early," Bitch-Face was saying and Clara bit back the urge to hit something, the urge that arose whenever she spoke. "Your dad decided to stop at a hotel overnight so we could surprise you nice and early on your big day!"

"How thoughtful!" Clara beamed, internally screaming. She might have even appreciated the thought, were her thoughts still not on the amazing time she and the Doctor could at that moment have been having in the bedroom. "Have you guys had breakfast?" she asked, addressing only her father and making sure to avoid looking at Bitch-Face. But it was the latter who replied.

"Yeah, we had some toast at the hotel didn't we Davey?" Clara wanted to vomit. "But if you and the Doctor haven't eaten then go ahead, it's fine by us."

"I'm just going to go and check on the Doctor," Clara smiled falsely and sprinted to her room. "One second guys…"

She disappeared into her bedroom and was momentarily taken in by the topless Doctor in front of her, halfway through pulling up his trousers. When she entered, he lost his balance and toppled over backwards and Clara rolled her eyes irritatedly. Normally, she'd have taken the damn trousers off him there and then but right now she was pissed and her dad was in the next room. She stomped over and yanked his trousers up to his waist, thrusting a belt into his hand and cursing under her breath.

"For fuck's sake!" she hissed at him. "You can't even fucking dress yourself!" she sighed and softened instantly, the wounded puppy look on his face sending pangs of guilt racing through her. "I'm sorry," she whispered, pressing herself up against him and kissing him softly. The Doctor rubbed her back lovingly and she rested her head on his shoulder. "It's just a fucking nightmare. What the hell is she doing here? Why did Dad bring her?"

"He probably still harbours hopes that the two of you can get along," the Doctor replied in a kind voice that made Clara smile despite the words coming out of his mouth. "Just give him a chance Clara; you know he's only trying to make up for his mistakes."

Clara knew the Doctor was right and smiled into his neck as she nibbled on it tenderly, causing him to jump a mile and go bright red. She rolled her eyes at this and quickly stripped. She shot the Doctor a glance and it never failed to amaze her how his face seemed to lose all control whenever she got naked. He'd seen her naked a good number of times now, but he still ogled like it would never happen again, his jaw on the floor and his eyes hungry. She could see his hardness through his trousers.

"Down boy," she teased, pulling on a bra and skipping over to kiss him. Their kiss was light, it had to be. Clara knew that once she started kissing him properly, she wouldn't be able to hold back, especially as they were half-dressed and they couldn't waste time having sex when her father and his eugh were in the next room. She pulled on her laciest knickers; shooting the Doctor a seductive wink and watching him practically drool. Clara didn't mind, she would often lay awake at night, unable to take her mind off of his chest and how attractive he was. The Doctor had managed to compose himself as she pulled on a black mini-skirt and one of his shirts over the top. He raised an eyebrow and she shrugged, showing her defiance. She wasn't going to let her dad hold her back. She glanced in the mirror as she quickly put on some makeup and brushed out her hair, messing it up. She knew the Doctor loved it messy and it might even annoy her dad further. The Doctor was just doing up his bow tie and slipping into the beige jacket when there was a knock on her door.

"Come in," Clara called, winking at the Doctor as she mussed up her hair a bit more. It was Annabelle, who had seemingly recovered from her laughing fit, although her face was still very red.

"Oh good, you're not having sex!" Annabelle said dryly and Clara smirked at this, despite the fact that she'd really rather not have been reminded. "Your dad wants to take you out for brunch. He said he's waiting by the car and don't be more than ten minutes." Clara muttered a curse at that. "And Happy Birthday Clara, your present from me is on the counter. I think he'll like it!" she gestured to the Doctor who had gone red again and Annabelle saluted at him before leaving.

Clara finished buttoning her shirt and pulled on a cardigan as the Doctor slicked back his hair and went for his shoes. She looked wistfully at him, disappointed that she couldn't be alone with him for much longer and he walked over, pulling her into one of his delightfully tight hugs. He kissed the top of her forehead and she blushed, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

"I love you Clara," he said with a smile.

"I love you too Chin," she replied, before snatching up his hand and dragging him out of the bedroom. "Now then, let's see what delightful gift Annabelle has in store for me!" She also quickly remembered that Tom had given her, her gift on Friday night, to store for safe-keeping in her wardrobe and she opened that first. She smiled as he'd bought her a woolly jumper covered in chocolate muffins. She then headed into the kitchen and ripped open the ominous parcel on the counter. She stifled a laugh and looked at the Doctor who looked like he was about to pass out. It was a very lacy, bright pink bra and matching skimpy underwear. Clara bit her lip as she looked at the Doctor, who had started trying to form words.

"You okay there bow-tie?" she asked, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice as the Doctor nodded and gulped, not able to take his eyes off of the lingerie as Clara dangled it teasingly in front of his face. She giggled hysterically and then skipped quickly back to her room to hide the underwear, before returning and looping her arm around the one of her still slightly comatose Doctor. As she stepped forwards, he moved with her but by the time that they reached the car, the shock still hadn't left his eyes and he was yet to say a word. Clara was determined not to engage Bitch-Face, but without the Doctor to talk to as he recovered, she found her conversation with her father was one that Bitch-Face seemed determined to turn into a three-way one. Clara had managed to glean very little about her surprise, only that it was big.

The Doctor was functional, well as functional as the Doctor could be, by the time they were eating brunch and animatedly chatted with Bitch-Face or Mandy as he kept calling her, much to Clara's chagrin. At least this left her free to chat to her dad, who was being overly fatherly, which she didn't take as a good sign, but passed it off as him being concerned. After all, the last time he'd seen his daughter, she'd been in a hospital bed. Clara jarred her arm at one point and let out a string of expletives that earned them a few choice looks from fellow customers but other than that, brunch passed smoothly. Her father then told her that they were going birthday shopping. That at least was a good sign; until Bitch-Face piped up that she was going with Clara to pick out something whilst Dave went off the Doctor to find her something else. Clara looked pleadingly at the Doctor but her father shot her down and whispered something in the Doctor's ear that made the Doctor look torn and confused. Admitting defeat, Clara resigned herself to an afternoon of misery. And sure enough, it turned out to be a horror show as Bitch-Face kept making lovely comments so sickly-sweet that it made Clara feel ill and picking out outfits that made Clara want to hang herself in the changing rooms. She hoped the Doctor was having a better time than she was.

After a few hours, she was finally free of Bitch-Face's grasp but when they rendezvoused for an early Sunday dinner around 3pm so her father and Bitch-Face could get home at a reasonable hour, the Doctor was white with shock and the look he shot Clara was like none she'd ever seen before. Clara was very worried now and she could tell her father was nervous as well. He'd obviously wanted to get the Doctor alone to talk about something and she had a fairly ominous feeling that it was her surprise. The meal was full of little hand squeezes and gentle cheek kisses from the Doctor, who looked as though he couldn't stomach anything. By the time the waiters had cleared away their meals, Dave shot a nervous look at the Doctor and cleared his throat.

"Clara, I am so sorry," the Doctor whispered and she felt her stomach tighten.

"So Clara," Dave said with a beam. "First off, the Doctor helped me pick this out, I hope you enjoy it!" He handed her a box. She ripped it open and inside was a lovely golden pendant with a ruby in it. She kissed the Doctor and smiled at her father appreciatively. She knew she was getting her present from the Doctor when she got home but it was nice that her dad had gone to the trouble. Maybe the Doctor was just being silly. Or not, she reasoned. He still looked white as a sheet and her dad wasn't done yet. "Clara," he said with a deep breath. "As you know, the years since Ellie passed away have been as tough for me as they have been for you." Clara could already feel herself welling up. "But one person has in the last year been there for me to guide me through it. And that person has been Mandy." Clara did not like where this was going one bit. Her hand tightened to a vice-like grip on the Doctor's knee as he rubbed her back.

At this moment, they were interrupted. Waiters converged on the table, singing "Happy Birthday" and Clara ignored them, desperate to find out what her father had left to say. The singing finished as the Doctor shooed off the waiters and Clara blew out the candles on her cake, smiling appreciatively. Chocolate cake. She loved chocolate cake. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.

"Clara, Mandy and I are engaged."

Or worse. So much worse. The little hole in the pit of Clara's stomach gaped and swallowed her up. She swore, the worst word she knew but so quietly that only the Doctor heard and he winced upon hearing it, his arms around Clara. She didn't feel them or him. She didn't hear his reassuring words. But what she did hear, was Bitch-Face's next words and they pushed her over the edge. Even as Bitch-Face said them, Clara heard the Doctor swear, a word she didn't think she'd heard him use before.

"Isn't this great Clara?" Bitch-Face was beaming as she showed off the engagement ring she'd been hiding under gloves all day. Clara took a deep breath. Forcing herself to relax. "I'm going to be your new mum!"

That was it. That was fucking it. Clara was on her feet, and before she even knew what she was doing, she'd picked up the birthday cake and despite the Doctor and her father reaching to stop her, she slammed the whole thing into Bitch-Face's bitchy face. Clara felt out a scream and leapt over the table to claw at Bitch-Face. At least she tried to, as this time the Doctor's reactions were quicker and he had his arms around Clara's waist. She struggled against him but he pulled her in close to him. The Doctor was on his feet and pulled Clara off the table and onto hers. He kissed the top of her forehead, ignoring the punches and screams she threw into his chest. Her father was saying something; shouting at her but the Doctor was already guiding her away, out of the restaurant as people watched and gaped. Once they were out on the street, the Doctor let Clara go and she launched herself away from him, her face streaked with tears as she stumbled for words.

"How could he?" Clara sobbed, looking up at the Doctor hopefully, as if he had an explanation that would make this okay but knowing he didn't. "How could he do this to her? If he loved her, he wouldn't do this! He wouldn't just move on and be married within four years! How long was he with my mother? More than twenty years? Doesn't that mean anything to him?"

The Doctor said nothing and Clara appreciated that. There was nothing he could say, he knew she just needed to get everything off of her chest. She screamed herself hoarse and then he put his arms around her again as she cried. It was more than a few minutes before Dave and Bitch-Face stepped out of the restaurant. Bitch-Face had washed her bitchy face but looked livid and Dave was just as angry. He opened his mouth to say something but Clara shoved him back, interrupting.

"No!" she yelled. "You don't get to play the victim here. Or the angry parent. You've betrayed her. Betrayed mum. She loved you more than anything in the world. And here I am, still unable to get through a day without missing her and you're alright shacked up for life with the first bitch that let you into her bed. Well I'm not okay with that. In fact, I'm done. I'm moving out!" The Doctor and Dave's jaws both dropped. "The Doctor and I are going to live together!" Clara spat, shooting her father venomous glares. "I'm sick of the fact that when I lost my mum, I lost my dad too. I can't take it anymore, I can't take watching you shit all over her memory. I won't do it. We're done. Most of my stuff's here anyway, I'm sure we can arrange me getting the rest sooner or later. Bye dad. Come on Doctor."

The Doctor shot Dave a stunned look but not an apologetic one. Clara had him by the arm and she was struggling to keep a brave face, ignoring the shouts of her father as she pulled the Doctor down the street after her. She managed to hold back the tears until they were back at the apartment. Annabelle greeted them with a shout but Clara didn't respond as she crashed into her bedroom, threw herself down onto her bed and let out agonised sobs. The Doctor stopped Annabelle and hurried explained before shooting after Clara and shutting the door. He sat himself down beside her and waited until she was finished crying.

"Sorry," she said eventually, hiccupping as she did so. "This is so pathetic. And I didn't mean to spring the whole living with you thing on you…"

"No!" the Doctor stopped her. "It's fine. We've been living together anyway, it just means you don't have to go home. I totally understand. I love you and I'm here for you. And I'm truly sorry about Bitch-Face, I wish things could have done down differently. You have every right to be angry with your father. Here, I have something to cheer you up."

He ducked under the bed and returned a moment later with a small box. Clara plucked it open and it was a white gold chain, with the name: Soufflé Girl formed out of the gold. She let her breath catch in her throat and pulled him into a huge hug.

"This is beautiful," she breathed. "This must have cost an absolute fortune!" He gave a non-committal shrug that indicated it cost more than he was ever going to tell her and she narrowed her eyes at him before kissing him deeply. "I love you so much."

"I love you too Clara Oswald. So very much," he said and she knew in that moment that he'd never stop meaning it. She didn't need her father, not anymore. She knew that in the days following, the Doctor would try to convince her otherwise and he'd probably succeed but Clara didn't want him to. She knew what her mum would think, looking down. She'd want Dave to be happy and she'd want more than anything, for Clara and her dad to get along as though she were still with them. But Clara wasn't her mother. She never had been her mother. Her mother was the best person she'd ever known and Clara could never be her mother. She didn't have the patience or the love in her heart. She was too angry, too bitter, too broken. She would never be the person that her mum wanted her to be and she might as well stop trying. And her mum was too nice, way too nice but Clara knew that someone had to be angry for her. Someone had to be bitter for both of them. Somebody had to be broken for both of them.


	21. Chapter 21: Compromising Positions

***HELLO STONEHENGE! First off, I did warn you there'd be a funeral SORRY wedding, always getting those two mixed up, what is wrong with me? Anyway, apologies for the late update, Mondays are hell and after 5 hours of Kant I want to murder someone, thankfully I'm writing this evening. So, this chapter sees a range of POVs, including Annabelle and we get to see the Doctor in his new job. Plus, some answers on the Tom mystery. Enjoy guys! As ever, thanks for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting and to the core of loyal reviewers who every day without fail brighten up my inbox (you know who you are), this chapter is for you. Tomorrow, Ten! Lots of love, The Potter Doctor***

* * *

Annabelle wrapped her towel tightly around her body as she prepared to venture into the kitchen to make a cuppa. It was a Tuesday afternoon so only Clara would be around and she was more than comfortable around her friend by now. Annabelle ran a hand through her dirty blonde hair, and it flicked back into place just below her chin. She glanced in the mirror and caught her own sparkling blue eyes looking back at her. There was a bleep from behind her and she reached for her phone, checking the incoming text and seeing it was from her mother, asking how she was. Annabelle was in mood to talk to her family, so threw the phone back onto the bed and left her bedroom. She whistled cheerily as she entered the kitchen but the sound of the flat door opening shocked her and she dropped her towel, ducking under the counter and grappling for her towel as voices came floating in.

"And then I just sprang it on him!" Clara was saying. "I mean, I didn't even ask him or anything. The Doctor totally played it off, but even so, I should have said something, not just exploded it out as an excuse to get away from and piss off my father."

"Clara," Tom replied firmly. "You and the Doctor are at that stage where moving in is something you were probably doing anyway. The two of you have been living together for a few months now, although in the platonic capacity and whenever you see each other you're together…"

"Yes, but he lives in London and I'm up here," Clara pointed out, as Annabelle managed to rescue her towel and wrap it around her. She didn't want to pop up now or she figured that she'd die of embarrassment. "It's not as if we're properly living together, is it? We've not been able to spend any amount of time together since we got together, only sporadically. It's going to be weird trying to settle back into the routine of seeing each other every day."

"Weird, but it's you and the Doctor," Tom reassured her. "You'll be fine. Trust me." Annabelle couldn't see it, but she was willing to bet that he was giving Clara his most winning smile. She hoped they would be going to Clara's bedroom but by the sounds of it they'd settled in the lounge. She cursed silently.

"What about you?" Clara was saying. "I can't help but keep wondering if you're secretly gay."

"Why, because I don't fancy you?" Tom retorted and Annabelle giggled to herself. "Vain much. Ow!" Annabelle guessed Clara had punched him. "Look, I've already told you Oswald, you're not my type. I date blondes. Come back with a patchy dye job, a nose ring and grow a few inches, then we'll talk."

Annabelle subconsciously felt her nose, allowing herself a blush. She found Tom attractive but she doubted he even looked at her twice. Clara was muttering under her breath. Annabelle was starting to feel slightly chilly and a shiver ran through her.

"Why does it have to be a patchy dye job?" Clara snorted. "I'd look stunning as a blonde. The Doctor said so once, although he was slightly hammered at the time. Hell, I had a phase as a blonde when I was 15, everyone said it suited me."

"I've seen the Facebook photos," Tom replied flatly. "Trust me, they were lying. Stick to brunette Cla- Ow! Stop doing that!" Clara had obviously hit him again.

"Then stop being an arse about my appearance!" Clara replied with a laugh. "I don't go around pointing out the fact that if you got any thinner, you'd be 2-Dimensional! Seriously, do you ever eat?"

"Just because I have a stupidly high metabolism!" he snapped back, but his voice was cheery. "Why are you asking if I'm gay anyway? Just because I'm not seeing anybody right now." There was something in his voice now. "If you must know, there were some…problems with Lizzie." Annabelle went pale. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear this. She'd had her own problems in the romance department. Her last four boyfriends had either dumped her for being too clingy, cheated on her or both. Boy did she know how to pick them. Either way, she'd gone from eavesdropping on a comfortably light conversation to something entirely different.

"What sort of problems?" Clara asked softly and Annabelle heard footsteps. "Do you want a cuppa?" She swore under her breath and Tom didn't respond, so he'd either nodded or shaken his head. Clara was getting nearer and Annabelle pulled the towel around her. Clara entered the kitchen and nearly had a heart-attack. Luckily, Tom wasn't looking, he'd started talking again as Clara knelt beside Annabelle and had a silent shouting match with her.

"Oh you know," Tom sounded bitter now. "She manipulated me, told me all the things she thought I wanted to hear. Used me to buy her loads of nice things and treat her well, but as soon as she found someone that she liked better, she dropped me like yesterday's news. She told me she loved me and the next day told me the whole thing had been an act. I don't think I can really trust women again after that. Better to just stick to one-nighters. At least they're honest; both parties know what they're getting into."

"Here's your cuppa!" Clara said in an exasperatedly high voice as she rushed out of the kitchen. Annabelle was flushed a deep red as she heard Clara say: "Shall we go through to the bedroom." She heaved a huge sigh of relief as she heard the door slam and then she skirted out of her hiding position, thoroughly embarrassed but at least it could have been worse. Annabelle ran back to her room and gently shut the door, letting out a sigh of relief. She felt bad for Tom, she hadn't known about Lizzie and now she felt guilty for being annoyed at him. They'd only met a handful of times; she couldn't exactly blame him for not shooting seductive looks her way. Clara had been in a foul mood since the Doctor had gone home, but she was at least cheerful now that Tom was here. Annabelle felt bad for Clara. Losing her mum must have been tough enough, but now she felt like she was losing her father as well. Dave hadn't spoken to his daughter in the couple of days since the incident as far as Annabelle knew, but she was certain that if he did try, he wouldn't get very far. Clara was stubborn as anything and prickly when angered. And Dave had really angered her. Annabelle wasn't used to seeing Clara so fired up. Her phone buzzed again.

_Bella, please. I know we've not talked much recently and I know that's your dad and I's fault, but we love you and we just want to check in. Please just call us when you get the chance._

Annabelle bit her lip and the bullet. She called her mother.

* * *

The Doctor was fed up of work. It was only Thursday but all he wanted was to return to Clara. She was always in his mind, probing at his every emotion and never far from his thoughts. He found himself increasingly distracted and it frustrated him that he was so susceptible to it. There was a knock on his open door and the Doctor made an entering gesture, not bothering to look up and see who it was.

"Doctor, sir?"

It was Carlyle, a timid young man who couldn't have been older than the Doctor was. He looked slightly ashamed, as if he'd done something stupid. The Doctor knew this couldn't be good, but took the bait anyway, looking away from the far from promising calibration statistics that had been thrown onto his desk that morning.

"What is it Carlyle?" the Doctor asked, not unkindly but still managing to scare the shit out of the other young man.

"Sir, there's a bit of a problem with the remotes. We can't seem to turn off the laser. Jenkins nearly lost an arm sir, but everyone's fine. No injuries, fortunately."

"Try rerouting the laser power couplings through the secondary transducer unit," the Doctor sighed, rubbing his eyes as Carlyle looked at him in awe, as he always did when the Doctor said something clever. Carlyle was bright enough to understand most of what the Doctor said, which not only made him a good asset but it also meant that he appreciated just how clever the Doctor was. He dismissed Carlyle with a wave of his hand and quickly hacked into the security feed from the lab. He wondered if the people in charge knew he'd been doing that and didn't care or if their security really was that bad. He supposed he should probably say something. The laser grid was still on and the Doctor cursed until he saw Carlyle appear on screen, instructing a couple of the other technicians, Baz and Perry. It took the three of them a couple of minutes to reroute the cables but thankfully when they did, the lasers finally overloaded and deactivated. Jenkins gave the camera two thumbs up, causing the Doctor to snort with laughter. They did know he was watching them then.

The Doctor sat back and grabbed his phone, thumbing a text to Clara. He paused before sending it and then reworded it slightly. He was constantly doing that, reworking all his texts so that every single word perfectly reflected exactly how much he loved Clara and exactly what he was trying to illustrate. He needed to work a lot harder on his social conventions than most so it pleased him to know that Clara was someone he could do that with. Not that she'd care if he didn't rework his texts, it was more for his own sake than hers. The teasing reply that buzzed into his face moments later was accompanied by a picture and the Doctor's eyes nearly dropped out of his head as he drank in her body, protected only her birthday present from Annabelle and the gold necklace he got her draped around her neck. She was in a seductive position, doing naughty things to her teddy bear. The Doctor felt an overwhelming urge to return the favour and glanced around quickly before slipping his phone into his boxers.

"Doctor, what are you doing?"

The Doctor dropped his phone hurriedly and it crashed into a painful place. He resisted the urge to yell in pain as his phone rolled down his trouser leg and the Doctor span his chair to face a very confused Carlyle. Bugger, he'd been quick getting back.

"Nothing," the Doctor said through gritted teeth. "Nothing at all Carlyle, I promise. The laser situation?"

"Resolved," Carlyle said, more than a hint of a smirk present on his face. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. Did you get a chance to look at the calibration statistics?"

"Yes I did," the Doctor frowned. "Try lowering the frequency by 56.7895 Hz. Not 56.7894 for Soufflé's sake, we don't want another explosion like the one that claimed Houghton's eyebrows."

"Is that what happened to yours sir?" Carlyle's smirk had grown. "For Soufflé's sake?"

"Carlyle, I have the power to fire you, you know?" the Doctor smiled despite himself as Carlyle smirked. "Just get Vastra up here; she knows how to recalibrate the sonic as well as any of you fools."

"Yes sir," Carlyle hurried out the room and the Doctor was sure he could hear him laughing as he tried to ignore the fact that he'd accidently sent Clara a picture of the floor.

* * *

Clara felt wretched. The Doctor would be back any minute and she was still stuck on campus, vomiting into Tom's toilet in her underwear. She heard him crash about and she wanted to go and check on him, but she figured he'd be fine as she hurled again, this time failing to get her hair out the way and spewing chunks into the tangled bird's nest that was dangling limply from her skull.

"Here," Tom staggered in, covering his eyes as he threw her a hoodie and some joggers. "These are my old ones, you can take them.

"For God's sake Tom, you spent the night chasing me around your block while I was wearing this," Clara rolled her eyes, embarrassed but not that embarrassed. She was not planning on telling the Doctor that she'd spent a good hour running around the block in her bra and panties, being desperately chased by Tom, who had been trying to cover her up. That was the last time she started with gin and moved onto Absinthe. She was grateful for the clothes, completely unsure what had happened to the dress she'd been wearing.

"Sorry," Tom apologised, backing out the room as Clara let rip again. When she was done being sick, she crawled into the shower, letting the hot water wash over her. She heard her phone ring and she heard Tom answer it. That would be the Doctor, wondering where on God's green earth she had gotten to. As she flopped out and wrapped a towel around herself, Tom called to her through the door.

"The Doctor's coming here. He's just dropped his shit and your place and Annabelle told him you were here. I let him know you were in one piece and he's looking forward to seeing you."

"You invited him here!" Clara exploded, almost bursting out of the bathroom and remembering that would not be wise. Her already see-through bra was now soaked, as she hadn't been bothered to take it off. "I swear to God Parker," she groaned. "He's going to find out what happened now. He'll be mortified. I'll be mortified. More mortified. Half the male population of your flat got a great look at my rack."

"First," Tom said in his best soothing voice. "Only about half a dozen people saw you and half of those were girls anyway. Secondly, you were wearing a very covering bra," Clara winced at that comment. "Thirdly, the Doctor will understand, that's even if he finds out because I won't tell him. And fourthly, you can't refer to your chest as a rack Oswald, it needs to be…"

"I swear to God if you make a comment on my boobs I will come out there and beat you to death with a fucking tennis racket," Clara warned him.

"I'm saying nothing," Tom wisely decided and Clara snorted. She'd suspected as much. She pulled on the top and joggers he'd lent her and he let out a chuckle when he saw her. "Fetching," he grinned sarcastically and Clara rolled her eyes. She would have hit him any other day but she was fairly sure that the physical exertion of doing so would make her throw up all over again. Tom wasn't looking so hot himself, a red jumper and baggy shorts and he was pale as anything.

"How long did the Doctor say he was going to be?" Clara whined as she slumped on Tom's bed. Tom did not look impressed and didn't answer, pursing his lips at her. She flipped him off and rolled over, grabbing a photo frame off his bedside table. It was him and a brunette, shorter than him and she looked younger too.

"I thought brunette girls weren't your type?" she asked with a tease. "Or was Lizzie the exception to the rule? Ah…" Clara realised something quickly and gently put the frame down with a warm smile. "Let me guess, Lizzie is the reason you only date blondes? Put off us gorgeous girls with the long brown locks?"

"First off," Tom replied with a raised eyebrow. "That's my little sister." Clara pulled an embarrassed face at that and raised a hand in acknowledgement of error. "She's just turned 16. And secondly, I don't only date blondes at all and I have nothing against brunette girls, I just happen to find myself fancying blondes more. Thirdly, Lizzie was a blonde," he paused. "She fit the rule perfectly, which is why I fell so hard for her. She was everything I looked for in a girl, except genuine. She didn't put me off blondes, but she did put me off trusting people. Hell, one of the main reasons I trust you so much is because I don't see you, can't see you the same way I see Lizzie. You want to know why I don't fancy you Clara, look at the photo. Don't be insulted, it's one of the highest compliments I can offer a girl."

Then it hit her. She looked at the photo again, at the smiling Tom and the shorter, cheerful brunette in the photo with him. His sister. She reminded him of his sister. No wonder he'd been so kind to her the first time he'd seen her. No wonder he was so platonic with her, no wonder he was always ragging on her appearance. No wonder he trusted her. She frowned at this.

"I'm not offended," she said quietly. "It just makes so much more sense now. You've been treating me like a sister because I remind you of her. You don't fancy me, but you trust me and you've been kind to me from the get go because if that was your little sister, vulnerable and alone, you'd go to her, and you'd want a friendly face to go to her. You two must get along really well."

"As well as any siblings do I suppose," he said with a smile and sat beside Clara, looking at the photo. "She's a great kid, but she's hitting that awkward teenage stage. We have a massive laugh but I'm constantly worried that she'll do something stupid like start doing drugs or get pregnant. She's 16 and I'm not around to look after her all the time. I mean my parents are great and perfectly capable but I'm the sort of guy that wants to do everything himself. It just makes more sense to me. Hell, if I'm the one teaching her to booze, I'm going to make sure I do it properly."

"What's her name?" Clara asked, putting a hand on Tom's shoulder.

"Chloe," he replied, his lips twitching upwards when he said it. "She looks like me apparently. But I've never seen it myself, I mean look at the nose! No offense."

Clara put a hand to her nose instinctively and then elbowed Tom in the ribcage. At that point, she heard the door knock behind her. She allowed herself a big grin and hurtled over before opening it. The Doctor stood there, looking thoroughly confused. He nodded to Tom and stared at Clara for a moment before pointing his thumb back down the corridor.

"Why do those guys have a picture of you on their phone that just looks like the photo you sent me?"

At this point, Tom burst into raucous laughter as Clara desperately struggled to come up with an explanation. She decided not to even bother trying.


	22. Chapter 22: Ten

***Greetings true believers. First off, a bit of background. Writing this story, I've had various levels of knowing where I've been going with it. For example, the River Song and Jessie storylines were always going to end the way they did. I had a rough idea where I was going with Master and the Doctor's past but bits of it I made up as I went along and I did toy with the idea of burning Clara in that furnace. So after Chapter 18 or so, I ran out of ideas. I contemplated stopping and writing a sequel, which I'm very glad I didn't do. Then, I had two big ideas, two end points which I am still aiming towards. If I'm honest, Chapters 21-25 felt a bit filler writing them but I hope you guys still enjoy them. I was worried that Chapters 27-30 would fit the same pattern, after 26 which is a barnstormer. This leads me to where I was going with this. Last night, I started Chapter 27 and changed my mind about something small. One line the Doctor says. But then I realised there would be ripples and quickly, this little line snowballed and I kept going with it. I can now comprehensively say that Chapters 27-29 are not filler, in fact Chapter 28 is a complete game changer, made up on the spot. This story is going to end up being between 35 and 40 chapters in the end, so a titanic effort but seeing as how I wrote two and a half chapters last night, I feel like I'm on the home straight.**

Apologies for this mammoth AN, I'm nearly done. So, other business. Ten, the Doctor's enigmatic cousin and a character I have chronically underused and will continue to in all honesty. But he gets a good role here, so enjoy. Also, TRANSITIONS FANS, I am currently thinking of writing a series of one-shots based in the Transitions world so if you hit me up with one-word prompts, via review or PM I'll get them up here ASAP and it won't affected my updating of Damaged. As ever, thanks for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting. Keep on trucking. The Potter Doctor*

* * *

As December rolled around and university came to a conclusion, Clara was excited. She was going to stay with the Doctor for longer than just a couple of days. She whistled merrily as she got the train down to London, not even bothering to shoot up to Blackpool, though after much argument with her father, she had finally agreed to go up on the 27th and 28th of the month, especially knowing that the Doctor would be working those days anyway. It sucked that he was, but there was nothing Clara or he could do about it. Ten rode up on the train with her. It was good to see Ten, she hadn't in a while. His dress sense was as eccentric as the Doctor's, with a brown pinstriped suit and huge matching overcoat, topped up with sandshoes and the craziest hair Clara had ever seen on a human being. He was all cheeky grins and quick wit and he could talk almost as quickly and as nonsensically as the man that Clara loved.

"So then I folded back the mainframe loop and the Doctor got the biggest electric shock!" Ten was laughing, as they passed Watford. "You should've seen his face, he never even saw it coming!"

Clara smiled at the thought of her Doctor, spluttering wildly and unable to contain his surprise. She imagined he must've got Ten back, but then if there was one thing the Doctor had never really understood, it was pranks. Once, he'd tried to start a prank war with her and that had lasted about five minutes before he gave in, filthy and exhausted. Ten was chuckling but his laughter stopped when Clara asked him about Rose.

"We broke up a few months ago," Ten said quietly. Clara shot him a shocked look. The Doctor hadn't said anything. "He doesn't know yet, I was going to tell him when I saw him," Ten explained, as if reading her look. "She's gone now, moved to New Zealand with her new fella. Goes by the name of Mickey, bit of an arsehole if you asked me but there you go. She made her choice. I've got to live with it and move on."

Clara's hand instinctively reached out and clasped Ten's shoulder and he smiled appreciatively. She could tell that Ten had missed his cousin and that he wasn't in the best of moods in general. He was probably lonely, Rose had gone everywhere with him for so long. It would be like her losing the Doctor. She shuddered at the thought. Ten needed perking up, so she ordered them a couple of shots each from the lady who was walking down the train with refreshments. It turned out to be an awful plan, as Ten was both an extreme lightweight and a weepy drunk and when they had to get off the train; he kept saying that he didn't want to go. The Doctor let them in when they arrived and luckily by this point, Ten had sobered up and was feeling very embarrassed. He confessed to the Doctor the truth about Rose and Clara retreated to the Doctor's bedroom to let the two have a heart to heart.

"Clara?" the Doctor poked his head in a while later. She was already sitting in his bed, PJs on. She wasn't feeling overly sexual after such a long train ride and it was nice just to be able to see the Doctor. He smiled as he clocked her and scampered across the room, undressing down to his boxers rapidly and throwing himself in beside her. "Sorry I took so long, I didn't realise how much an emotional wreck Ten was. Losing Rose hit him hard and he's had almost nobody to talk to about it."

"Damn," Clara muttered. "Poor bloke. I feel terrible, he seemed so cheerful until I brought up Rose. I should have just kept my mouth shut. I'm sorry Doctor."

He leaned in close to her and kissed her forehead, wrapping his lanky arm around her shoulder. Clara loved his warmth. "Don't apologise Clara. It's not your fault. He would have cracked sooner or later; he knew he'd be able to talk to me about it. So, it's been a week since I saw you my Impossible Girl."

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," Clara giggled, blushing furiously. "I'm not impossible. I'm just Clara. There's nothing special about me, all the special comes from you. And don't give me that look. I know you're about to launch into a 'Clara is amazing speech'!" she teased, nudging the Doctor before he got the chance. "It's been too long," she said quietly, snuggling in next to him. "Annabelle tried to repaint one of the walls of the flat that ended up being a calamity. Poor thing had to shower four times to get the stuff out of her hair. She had another row with her mum," Clara added quietly. "I'm really worried about her; I think I should head back up a couple of days early."

"Oh," the Doctor couldn't keep the disappointment out of his voice and Clara almost winced at it. "Of course, I mean Annabelle's your friend, I don't want to be one of those all-consuming boyfriends who locks you in the cupboard to stop you seeing any other human beings or who poisons your mind against people."

"Stop being overly dramatic!" Clara snorted, nudging him playfully and reaching up to kiss his cheek. "I'll call her tomorrow and see how she's doing. Worst case scenario, I'll be gone a couple of extra days you'd be working in anyway. So we've got the whole weekend together, then me and Ten are going to check out a couple of museums before he heads home, sound good?"

"Sounds perfect," the Doctor replied. He'd perked up a bit. "I'm taking you and Ten to the best bar in this part of the city tomorrow night, you'll love it. Fifteen different cocktails, all glow in the dark. If you drink all fifteen, they give you them all free. I can tell by the glint in your eye that you're interested."

"As long as you don't mind picking me up off the bar floor when I'm done," Clara teased. "But don't let Ten try it, the poor sod couldn't even handle two shots earlier. Doctor," she asked quietly, a thought popping into her head. "Ten, how much does he know about the orphanage and the fire and your parents?" She squirmed even closer to him, so her head was resting on his shoulder, their bodies looped together.

"Parts of it," the Doctor replied quietly. "He knows my parents died because of an explosion, a chemical one at that. Our families weren't close growing up or I'd have gone to live with him, but it wasn't an option. They brought Ten up in America and didn't move here until he was seven. They never sought me out. Once I'd escaped the orphanage I made contact but barely. I never told Ten that it was my fault that my parents died. He was so sad and alone and so was I and we bonded. I couldn't ruin that, all of it. He doesn't know I started the fire either, I told him what I told you, what I told River, everyone. None of it was my fault. The lies I've been telling myself for years."

"But that's the truth," Clara told him, kissing his forehead the same way he always kissed hers. "You're not a bad person Doctor, you're the best person there is." He was sobbing and she had her arms wrapped around him, soothing him gently. "I know you feel as though what's happened is your fault. I know that more than anything. But if you pretend that the world is punishing you then it will. You only lose out on the good things in life by punishing yourself. Look at us," she said, biting her lip. "We fucked around for so long because neither of us thought we deserved the other. But here we are. I love you Doctor and I know all of it. I don't hate you or pity you, I just love the person that you are. I know and see all there is to you and you're fantastic."

"That's how I see you," the Doctor replied with a smile. "Perfection, wrapped up in a bow of pure beauty, wearing a skirt that's just a little too tight."

"So you did notice?" Clara was smirking now and the Doctor flushed red. "And here was me thinking you were oblivious to my choice of skirt Chin-Boy. I was beginning to wonder why I even bothered."

"I'm not blind Clara," the Doctor laughed. "I just think you're beautiful, whatever you decide to wear. You'd look beautiful if you climbed out of an ugly factory or were dragged through a thorn bush face first."

Clara appreciated the metaphor but couldn't help but giggle at his thoughts. She wrapped her arms around him. "It's just you and me. My Doctor and I. I've missed you so much," she whispered the last bit and kissed him gently.

"I've missed you too Closwald," the Doctor replied. "I've missed you too. So much."

* * *

The Doctor took Clara's advice and didn't let Ten try all fifteen drinks the next night, as his cousin stuck to beer and was all the more manageable as a result of it. The Doctor himself decided to join his cousin on the pints, although he was able to neck them more effectively, whilst paying for Clara's fifteen drink attempt, despite her best efforts to dissuade him. The first eight were relatively simple, the next four a bit of a slog. With twelve down, Clara was staggering, the Doctor propping her up on her bar stool as she pulled in order number 13. The barman looked simultaneously impressed and sceptical as Clara guzzled the cocktail, all pretence of taking her time gone as she threw up in her mouth and managed to swallow it back down, the Doctor rubbing her back gently. He suggested stopping but the murderous and determined look in her bloodshot eyes told him she was carrying on. Clara had deliberately left the two most alcoholic for last and the penultimate one almost did her in and she would have passed out, had the Doctor not stopped her by slapping her cheeks gently. She downed the last drink, cheered loudly and the Doctor carried her to the toilets so she could throw up. She was still celebrating as her guts regurgitated themselves.

"Why did you let me do this?" she groaned, as the Doctor rubbed her back, a bouncer coming to give the Doctor his money back and to check on Clara. He asked them to leave when she was finished vomiting and the Doctor was more than happy to oblige.

"Because you're a tank," the Doctor chuckled. "I'm proud of you, in a bizarre, university way. You'll feel better in the morning, I promise."

"Why do you put up with me?" Clara whispered, slobbering him with a kiss. "I'm a drunken mess."

"Because I love you," the Doctor said simply. "And I love spending every second of my life with you, even when you are a crazy drunken mess. Now let's find Ten and get out of here, eh?" Clara nodded her agreement as he picked her up, plucking from the ground like she weighed nothing at all and she clung to his neck giggling as he carried her home, Ten right behind them.

"Doctor," Clara said quietly as he tucked her into bed. "Promise me that you'll never leave me. Never ever."

"Never ever Clara Oswald," the Doctor promised. "Never ever."

* * *

The following Monday, when the Doctor was back at work, Ten took Clara into the centre of London. They went to the Museums of Natural History and Science and Ten talked on and on about all the pieces in there. Some of them, Clara found really interesting. Others, she completely zoned out. Ten appeared to have cheered up, which was good and she sensed that he had been buoyed by being able to talk so much about the things he loved. Ten was a historian and knew everything there was to know about the past, as well as being a scientific genius. Clara knew he was showing off, a trait that he and the Doctor shared at times but Ten took it to a different level.

When they stopped for lunch, Ten was in the process of probing Clara about her relationship with his cousin. Clara didn't mind, it was only natural that Ten was curious but she didn't reveal anything to him that he didn't already know through the Doctor.

"Can I be honest with you Clara?" he asked her quietly and she nodded, leaning in to hear. "I think that my cousin is at his best when he's with you. You may not ever think him subdued, what with all his eccentricity, but when he's alone, he can be a grumpy sod. And that's dangerous. Men like the Doctor don't do well when they're lonely and alone."

"I could say the same about you," Clara replied in a soothing voice and Ten flinched at this. "I'm not going anywhere, the Doctor is the most important person left in my life and I have no intention of breaking his heart. I love him. But I'm more worried about you. You and the Doctor have a lot in common, including a dangerous propensity to be alone. Trust me Ten, I think you need to find someone to talk to."

"What's the point?" Ten said in a low voice. "They'll just end up leaving anyway. I'm not like the Doctor; I don't have you or someone like you. I thought I had someone and they disappeared to the complete other end of the earth with a guy from a chip shop in Essex. It's pretty demoralising. I'd rather just reinvent the term social revolution or pull a Doctor and sit in my room, developing a new kind of screwdriver."

"You can't avoid the real world forever," Clara told him. "Whether it's your dad being an arsehole or the fact that your girlfriend dumped you, we all have to face reality."

She hadn't even realised she'd been talking as much to herself as to Ten until she'd said it and she let out a sigh of acceptance in her own words. Ten was smiling at this, as if he too was realising that she was trying to advise herself. Clara let a smile out herself and they exchanged a look.

"The Doctor's lucky to have you Clara."

"Believe me, he knows. He tells me every day."

* * *

The next few days, Clara found boredom setting in. She had learned that Tom's family had moved from Leicester to London a few weeks earlier so she met up with him at a small café when it transpired that he lived a fifteen tube trip from the Doctor. Other than that, she'd been lounging around the Doctor's flat while he was at work, reading books, trolling YouTube for cat videos and working on her essay on The Great Gatsby, which at the least allowed her to kill some time by watching the associated film. It was Friday night when her boredom hit maximum. She'd painted her toenails three times that day, cleaned the whole of the apartment, spent a good two hours killing zombies on the Doctor's PS4 and given herself a haircut which she doubted the Doctor would notice. He had texted her earlier on in the day, telling her that he had to work late that night. He wasn't specific but as he was usually home by half past 5, she was aiming for 7 or 8. As she threw down the scissors and re-examined her fringe, she caught a look at the clock. 8:15. No text from the Doctor, saying he was finished or on his way. Clara was slightly annoyed, but knew that it wasn't exactly his fault, he probably just couldn't get to his phone. Even so, she sent him a quick text to check on his whereabouts and then threw herself down on his bed, watching the minutes tick by as the Doctor didn't reply. She made herself dinner and ate alone, quietly. She'd been planning on waiting for him but it was getting late and she'd been starving.

After another couple of hours had passed with no word from the Doctor, Clara's nerves were playing up. She tried calling him twice and then opted instead for his work number. The night shift informed her that the Doctor had left at the same time he always did and she felt anger swell up in her. He'd lied to her. Concern for his safety had shifted to rage and paranoia. Luckily, it wasn't long after that that the Doctor crashed in and she leapt to her feet, ready for an argument. He staggered in and she realised he was drunk as a skunk. Clara felt paranoia rapidly being replaced by anger as he spotted her and stumbled over, his eyes never leaving her chest. Clara felt sick.

"Hello sexy!" he grinned, throwing off his jacket and kissing Clara. His breath stank of booze. She slapped him and pushed him off and he fell back hurt, looking at her confused and upset. "I'm sorry Clara," he slurred. "What did I do wrong my lovely?"

"Where the hell have you been?" Clara hissed. "You said you were working late and now you crash in here, drunk as shit, acting like a complete arse with no explanation as to what the fuck you've been doing! And you clearly are incapable of using your phone since I've both texted you and tried to call you. What the fuck is that on your cheek?" she growled, spotting the obvious lipstick mark. She needed to remain calm and hear him out. If he had been cheating, which she highly doubted, he wouldn't stagger in here and act like he'd done nothing wrong. He'd either hide it from her or more likely sob his eyes out and beg her to forgive him.

"Jenny from Accounting," he giggled. "She was drunk. It was just a kiss on the cheek but I said no!" he held out a hand dramatically and Clara rolled her eyes. "I said I have a Clara called girlfriend. I mean a girlfriend called Clara. But Jenny was very nice. She let me drink a shot off of her tummy. She has a nice tummy. We were all out. All the work people. They invited me and it was rude to say no. Clara?!" he shouted as she shoved past him, grabbing her spare set of keys, her phone and her purse and shovelling them into a handbag before pulling on a coat and storming towards the door. "Where are you going?"

"Out." Clara was livid. Anger rising up in her and she couldn't control it. She couldn't look at him right now, as he stood there, expectantly. Like what he'd done was okay, like that was how he should behave. He was expecting her to go back and crawl into bed with him. Well fuck that. "I'll call you in the morning," she told him, not really caring if he remembered that piece of information or not.

Clara slammed the door behind her and took the steps up to his flat two at a time, not bothering to see if he was going to stagger after her. She pulled out her phone and took a sharp breath in the cold night air. There would be a hotel nearby she could stay in for the night, she just needed to be away from the Doctor. She dug out her phone. She needed to talk to someone. She pulled up Tom's number and called him, hoping it wasn't too late at night. She kept on walking, but realised that she didn't know where she was going.

"Clara?" Tom's voice was full of concern. "Are you alright?"

"Sorry," she replied, trying to sound cheery but failing drastically. "I know it's getting kind of late but I just needed to talk to someone. The Doctor lied to me, told me he was working late then he just traipsed in with some other woman's lipstick on his cheek, drunk as anything, claiming he's been out on the town with his workmates and doing body shots off of at least one of them. I know it's stupid but I'm just so pissed off and I need to vent while I look for a hotel."

"Come over," Tom said quickly. "If you need to stay the night, I'm sure my mum wouldn't mind, we have a spare sofa and some blankets. At least then you don't have to pay a stupid amount to stay in some grotty hotel. And I know you're pulling a stupid face and trying to argue but don't, just get over here."

Clara wanted to disagree with him but she couldn't. She needed a friend and a nice warm sofa sounded like a much better prospect than trying to find a hotel at this time of night, as it was nearly 11 and she didn't know this area of London well. She raced to the tube and caught the train to Tom's, ignoring three calls and two slurry texts from the Doctor. She'd only been inside Tom's house once and met his mum but not his dad or sister, so she was a touch nervous, although her anger hadn't faded a lot on the trip either. He opened the door and ushered her in, Clara trying to act polite and utilise her etiquette when inside she was still fuming. Sure enough, Mrs Parker had made up a living room sofa into a makeshift bed and Clara was appreciative as she looked around for Tom's parents.

"All in their rooms," he clarified quickly as he cottoned on. "How are you doing Clara? You sounded pretty pissed on the phone."

"Fine," Clara responded, lying and then throwing herself down onto the sofa to scream, pounding her fists against the duvet lying on it. For a moment, she lay there, absorbing the softness, breathing deeply. She felt a hand on her shoulder and sat up, smiling wistfully at Tom. "Sorry, that wasn't really fair on your sofa," she added. "I'm just so furious. He lied to me again and he thinks that lying to me and doing body shots off of other women is okay! I mean, why didn't he just tell me he wanted to go out with people from work? Why would he lie? He just makes me feel so…"

"Small? Unimportant?" Tom supplied and both words stung Clara. The truth of them hurt. The Doctor had made her feel inferior, the one thing that she'd hoped he'd never be able to make her feel. She felt left out, as though he'd wanted to keep her a secret from the people he worked with. And keep them a secret from her, probably so that she wouldn't want to join him. Tom's hand was rubbing her shoulder gently and she smiled appreciatively at him. As her anger faded into sadness, she found herself exhausted and wrapped the duvet around herself. Tom took the hint and went up to his room, flicking the light off behind him. It took Clara less than five minutes to drift off to sleep.


	23. Chapter 23: On Rocky Ground

***Hey troops. This is a very Whouffle centric chapter, as we properly explore Clara's relationship with the Doctor. There is a smut warning on this chapter and tomorrow's chapter takes both fluff and smut and kicks it into overdrive. There's only a dozen or so chapters left and although I haven't done any more since Monday, I know exactly where I'm going with all of my characters. I want to give all my main characters a proper resolution, so there'll be plenty of plot resolutions and returning characters, plus plenty of cameos, including a couple of new character cameos that I hope you'll love as Who fans. There's plenty of sweet, romantic chapters to come, but also some serious twists, so keep your eye on this space. Back same time tomorrow guys and as ever, thank you so much to all my readers, reviewers, followers and favouriters. You guys make this story what it is. Catch ya later! TPD***

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Clara found herself waking up to a girl she vaguely recognised poking her in the side with a remote control for a Wii console. She rolled over so she was facing the girl, who was frowning at her as though she didn't quite understand what was going on. It took Clara a moment to realise that the girl was Chloe, Tom's little sister. Clara sat up, Chloe still eyeing her suspiciously. Clara smiled, a friendly gesture to try and calm the situation.

"Mum!" Chloe shouted and Clara couldn't help but wince. "There's a strange girl on our sofa! Where did she come from?"

Mrs Parker chose this moment to wander downstairs and smile brightly at Clara, who immediately felt better about her intrusion into the Parker household. "Don't worry dear, that's just Clara, Tom's friend."

"Don't be stupid mum," Chloe sighed dramatically. "She's attractive, there's no way in hell she could possibly be friends with Tom!"

"Oi, scamper off," Tom was calling from upstairs as he hurtled down them and into the room, smiling apologetically at Clara, who was giggling. "Did you sleep alright?"

"Fine," Clara replied, pulling the duvet off her and embarrassed by the fact she hadn't brought a change of clothes. "I suppose I'd better text the ars- boyfriend," she quickly corrected herself as she shot a glance at Chloe and grappled with her phone. "Tell him where I am. I suppose now that he's sobered up he'll apologise."

"Are you still angry at him?" Tom asked as Mrs Parker ushered her daughter into the kitchen to make breakfast, quickly telling Clara to stick around as she'd rustle up something for her as well. "Thanks mum!" he called back.

"Am I still angry?" Clara asked herself the question. She reckoned that she was more upset than angry. Anger tended to fade but the dull gnawing at her soul that reminded her that the Doctor had done it didn't go anywhere. She was sad that he could do it, sad that he thought it was acceptable. And she felt dreadful knowing that he would act so guilty and yet at the same time, his self-loathing act would only serve to make sure she couldn't possibly stay mad at him. She'd apologise, he'd apologise and then they'd be exactly where they were the previous day. Except, she'd still have the reminder that the Doctor had lied to her and would probably lie to her again, even though he'd made her believe in him. Believe that the lies would stop. "Not really," Clara said eventually. "I just feel upset and unsure."

"Unsure of yourself or of him?" Tom asked disconcertingly.

"Unsure of everything," Clara replied. "Whenever I trust him, he makes me regret it. I can understand all of his lies but they don't stop happening. Just because he feels justified in lying to me whenever it's convenient for him, doesn't mean that I'm supposed to sit back and keep feeling like shit whenever he does and then I'll keep forgiving him, expecting things to change and then wham, he'll lie all over again."

"So what are you going to do?" Tom's voice was soft and Clara blinked away tears. The truth was, she didn't know.

* * *

She was in the kitchen, helping Mrs Parker wash up despite her insistence that she could manage, when she heard the doorbell and Tom shot her a look before going to answer it. She heard muffled voices and then the sound of skin connecting with skin. More specifically, fist connecting with jaw. Clara winced and excused herself, rushing out to see what had occurred. Sure enough, the Doctor had stepped inside the house, rubbing his jaw painfully and grimacing. His face completely changed when he saw Clara. His eyes turned soft and sorry, his lips shooting nervously around and his eyebrows were hunched. He opened his mouth to speak but words failed to come. Clara stepped forward, swatting Tom and shooting him a playful glare.

"Don't hit my boyfriend," she instructed, allowing herself a smile as Tom scooted off. "Thanks again for everything," she stopped him and hugged him. "I'll see you soon and I'll let you know how it goes. Thank your mum for everything." He nodded and skipped off. "And you!" she turned her glare onto the Doctor and this time it was as fiery as she could make it. "Outside. Now." The Doctor stepped outside and she punched him as hard as she could, sending shockwaves up and down his arm as he yelped. "You inconsiderate arsehole!" Clara snapped, storming off down the street as he followed.

"Clara!" he called after her and she slowed to allow him to catch up. She turned to face him and he put on the wounded puppy face, just like she'd expected. He wouldn't let her stay angry with him. Dickhead. Forgive. Repeat. "I never should have lied to you. But I was scared. I've never been out on a work night out before, or really been drinking with anyone but you. I didn't know what to do, but I knew if I invited you, I'd never learn. I'd never be able to do it with you there, and that's not an excuse. You deserve better. I treated you like shit."

"Yes you did. And yes I do." Clara turned her back to him. "And you'll do it again. And again. Every time I think you've finally been honest with you, you just lie. You lie about River, about your past, about your feelings and then when you think that confessing it fixes everything, you find something new to lie about. Like this. You lie, you apologise, and I apologise and follow you home because I have no choice. Because I can't help it and because I love you and then you'll just lie to me again. You'll make me feel like shit all over again and I won't have the guts to stand up and get away from it all."

"Clara," the Doctor said. "Are you dumping me?"

"No!" Clara said and she threw herself into his arms instinctively and kissing him softly. "No of course not. I love you so much and I could never dump you over something so stupid and trivial!" she reassured him, knowing that until he asked the question, she'd not been entirely convinced in her answer. Now she was. "I just hate the fact that you lie. And you think that you're doing it to help us, but all secrets and lies achieve is more problems. More pain for everyone involved."

"I'm so used to lying to everyone," the Doctor replied and Clara nodded. She knew that and it was half the problem. "I hate lying to you Clara, but there are times when I feel as though it is the only way. I've always found secrets protect us, they keep us safe. But around you, I always feel safe. I'm trying hard not to lie to you," he promised. "But it's so difficult. You deserve so much better than me Clara."

"No, I don't," she told him firmly and sighed. "I'm just overreacting. I can't expect you to never lie to me, just like I know that there will be times I lie to you and we'll both think it's for the best. Sometimes it will be and sometimes we'll make mistakes. What matters is that I love you and you're an absolute arsehole."

She pulled him closer and felt her heart sink. Dickhead. Forgive. Repeat. And it was no more than she deserved.

* * *

Clara continued to feel down as the Doctor took her back to his flat and offered to cook. She told him that she'd already eaten and she could see him visibly cringe and try to recover. She just wanted to drink. The bottle of wine on the counter top was looking promising and she told the Doctor she was going for a bath, alone, subtly removing the wine and hiding it behind her back. She felt bad as she locked his bathroom door and de-clothed, slugging from the bottle quickly as the hot water came spurting out of the taps. The wine was foul and it made Clara drink faster, desperate to avoid the taste. She could hear the Doctor shouting but his voice wasn't audible over the roar of the taps. She guzzled; climbing into the bubbly water and the burning sensation on her skin felt good until she had a momentary lapse as she imagined lying in a furnace burning and her grip on the wine bottle loosened. She drank faster, desperate to get rid of the memory but soon there was no wine left to drink and Clara's vision was becoming blurry. The heat around her was trapping her and she suddenly felt paralysed by fear. She was going to die in this bath tub. She tried moving her hands and all it did was slosh the water. She took deep breaths but the alcohol had gone to her head. Clara gave in to the heat and felt herself slip into unconsciousness. It only lasted a moment and as her head sunk below the water, Clara burst into life, screaming as she clawed upwards, breaking the surface. She let her lungs loose, yelling and spluttering and the Doctor was hammering on the door. She heard him swear and start trying to kick it down and she flopped out of the tub, unbolting the door. He rushed in and embraced her, his arms around her instantly. She felt shame bubble up within her as he spotted the wine glass and looked at her sadly, crooking his head slightly.

"Oh Clara," he whispered. "My Clara. What have you done?"

"I'm sorry!" Clara sobbed. "I'm sorry. I thought I was back in the furnace. I thought I was dying."

The Doctor soothed her, shushing her gently as she pressed herself up against him. It took her a few moments to realise she was still soaking wet and naked, her hair dripping and draped around her like curtains. She stepped away from the Doctor, but she was drunker than she'd realised and fell back, the back of her head colliding with the bath as she fell back. She felt like her skull had been split open as pain shot through her. She could feel something hot and sticky roll down her head and as she opened her eyes and sat up she felt extremely dizzy, her hair red with blood. Clara vomited, the pain shooting through her and she tried to stand, immediately regretting it as the Doctor stepped forward and caught her. He was saying her name increasingly frantically as Clara felt everything go black.

* * *

She woke in the Doctor's bed. That was a start, she told herself as she sat up, rubbing the back of her head and wincing at the pain. She looked around but he was nowhere to be seen. She felt pangs of guilt run through her. What had she been thinking? She knew the answer to that. She'd slipped back into old habits, and bad habits at that. She had thought she was better than this, better than drinking her problems away. But she had been upset and angry and the Doctor couldn't fix it. He'd made it worse. Clara knew he couldn't have gone far and wasn't sure what that meant to her. He'd made her feel shit but he'd taken care of her. He'd patched up her head, put her to bed. There was water and ibuprofen on the table beside her and she swallowed the pill quickly before drinking. She heard a door slam and tried to stand, immediately sinking back onto the bed and yelling in pain as she thought her head was going to split into two. The Doctor came rushing in, hands in a fighting position until he realised Clara was alone.

"Don't try to stand!" he instructed her. "You had a nasty bump to the head. You'll be very sore but it should be fine in a few days. It didn't need stitches, thankfully but I've bandaged it up. How're you feeling?"

"Thank you," Clara replied in a hoarse voice. "I feel like complete horseshit."

"That'll be my fault," the Doctor said in a quiet voice. She didn't disagree with him. "I'm so sorry Clara; I never meant to push you back onto the booze…"

"Stop it," Clara said firmly. "I don't want to talk about it. It was my fault, a lapse. These things happen Doctor, you can't fix everything. You can't fix me. I'm the fuck-up, not you."

He didn't say anything to this, he just pulled her into a hug so deep and loving that it made her want to cry all over again. He kissed her forehead and for a moment, the splitting pain was gone, replaced by a warm, fuzzy feeling. Clara looked at him, unable to stop herself smiling and she kissed him. She felt less awful as their lips meshed, his tongue slipping into her mouth. The kiss lasted what felt like a lifetime before he broke it off and got into bed beside her. She curled up into a ball beside him and he kissed her cheek, cuddling up beside her.

"I know you don't lie to hurt me," she said quietly. "And I know that when you do lie it's for a good reason. I'm sorry I overreacted so much; I just let myself get caught up in everything. I can be such a bitch to you and you've suffered so much. You've given your all and here I am, constantly second-guessing you and acting as though I've had it so much worse than you have."

"Some people are better than others at handling things," the Doctor informed her. "Never, ever apologise for being the way you are Clara. And don't feel the need to justify yourself to me. Because I love you Clara. Don't underestimate the sadness and the destruction in your life just because I've had it worse. You were nearly burned alive, you lost your mum and nobody helped pick you up. I've had a whole lifetime of being alone, I've never needed anyone. I can barely remember my parents, which is why I can't miss them as people, only the entity of them. You loved your mum more than anything and she was taken from you. You're allowed to overreact sometimes and you're allowed to moan and drink and scream at the world. Because no matter how much you scream and shout and drink, I will always be here to pick you up. I know you think you're damaged Clara, but my intention was never to fix you. It was to love you."

"Well consider your intentions fulfilled," Clara smiled. "When I'm with you, I don't feel damaged. When I'm with you, I feel whole. You make me forget the fact that I'm different, that I'm fucked up. And I love you so much. I've always found you adorable, endearing. Then I started noticing how attractive you were. And how kind. And how you're so doting and how you never gave up on me. I was always the one pushing you away, pushing you back. No matter how horrible I was, how angry, you didn't push me back. And you deserve so much better than that. I just want to worthy of you Doctor."

"The second you stop doubting yourself Clara Oswald," the Doctor said with a smile. "I'll stop doubting myself. We're only human. And we're on the messed up side of human. We're on rocky ground, you and I. And only together can we make it onto the other side. It's only through each other that we can find what it means to be truly happy."

"You've been listening to Professor Holmes' audiobooks again haven't you?" Clara asked with a smirk and he pulled a face. "I told you, he's just a philosopher, not some life guide who knows everything is to know!"

"Just because you're still unwilling to admit you have a crush on him!" the Doctor riposted and Clara went red as she swatted at him. She looked into the Doctor's eyes and knew that whatever she did, she would never be worthy of him. And yet the Doctor looked at her like he'd never look at anyone else and she loved him. Their lips met and she still felt the same rush that she did that night on the pavement, or in their flat when he traipsed back in. Her hand slipped into his trousers and he shot a surprised look at her. She shrugged and their lips locked again, the simple of his tongue in her mouth sending shockwaves through her.

"I have," Clara gasped as his mouth went to her neck. "The biggest crush. On you."

"I know," he replied cheekily and groaned as she tugged harder. "I have the biggest crush on you right now."

"I can feel," she smirked. "Down boy."

He pushed her down onto the bed and she winced slightly because of her head. He immediately stopped but Clara urged him on as he stripped. She thrust herself against him as he removed her nightdress and they locked eyes as he entered her. She felt her entire body rush to greet him, pure joy rocking her. She moaned and then screamed his name over and over, pleasure never-ending. When she was with the Doctor, nothing else mattered.


	24. Chapter 24: A Christmas Souffle

***Hello everyone! Sorry for the lateness of the chapter, only just got home from uni. Thursdays are not fun. Anyways, here's today's chapter, a light and fluffy yet smutty Christmas chapter woo! I hope you guys enjoy and as ever, thanks for all the reads, reviews, follows and favourites :) Lot's of love, The Potter Doctor***

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On any other Christmas Day, the Doctor would be like an overly energetic puppy, throwing himself to all four corners of the room, shouting and cheering and ripping open presents like a wild animal. It was 8:30am on Christmas morning and he was sat on his bed, a locked door between him and Clara, their nerves frayed, the tension heavy. He stood up and contemplated knocking on the bathroom door but decided against it. She would tell him when she was ready. He took another nervous glance at his watch. She'd been in there ten minutes, surely she knew by now?

"Anything?" the Doctor asked, his voice shaky. He wasn't ready to be a father.

"Yep," Clara said and threw the door open, holding out the pregnancy test for the Doctor. "We're not pregnant. And I am never running out of pill and having you say the phrase: 'I can pull out in time' ever again. You twat!" she was joking of course, the relief palatable on her face. Ever since it had happened, neither of them had been able to sleep, lying awake in other's arms. They'd both had many conversations about their options. The Doctor didn't like the idea of abortion, murdering an innocent child felt wrong to him and Clara knew she wouldn't have the heart to do it either. She'd love the little bastard in her stomach from the second she saw him, which would make adoption an equally tricky option. They'd both grown up in at least partially parentless environments, they didn't want to throw their child out to dry. In short, if they were stupid enough to get pregnant, they were responsible enough to deal with the consequences. Thankfully, that wasn't going to happen. The Doctor, like Clara, mainly felt relief, but some small part of him wanted her to be pregnant. He loved the idea of having children with Clara, but he knew that would happen eventually. He was counting on it.

"Can we open presents now?" The Doctor asked the simple question enough to completely discharge whatever tension was left in the room. Clara went into a fit of giggles, pulling him into a long kiss and nodding, every bit the seven year old girl running down the stairs to open presents at 5am. This Christmas was going to be different. This Christmas, it was just the two of them. They piled out of the bedroom, almost falling over each other in their haste to get to the tree in the living room. Clara got their first and was beaming at him, thrusting a present in his direction. He raised an eyebrow.

"Last year, we left each other's presents until last," she explained. "I want to invert that tradition. This year, I'll open your present first and you open what I got you first."

The Doctor smiled and nodded, taking the present that Clara was offering him. It looked like a calendar of some sort, judging by its weight and shape. He ripped it open and it was indeed a calendar. But it was a Clara calendar. Each month was a different picture of her, some of them with him in looking adorable, bringing up happy memories of times gone by. Others were a little more…naked. The Doctor was unable to take his eyes of March.

"I thought you'd like March," Clara said with a wink and he went even redder. "That cream got everywhere you know. That's not all I got you, open this."

The Doctor eventually took his eyes off the calendar long enough to open Clara's next package. It was a Finding Nemo scrapbook, which when the Doctor opened had a number of photographs from various moments in their friendship, from their selfies in Philosophy to film nights cuddled up to house parties. There were so many, he smiled and held it close to his heart. What made it better was that Clara had annotated each photo, giving her personal opinion on each photo which varied from: '_What the hell was my fringe doing here?' _to '_Sometimes I lie awake at night looking at this photo because it reminds me how much I love you.' _

The Doctor was kissing Clara before he even knew it, tears streaming down his face as they connected, hands already rushing to various points in the body. The Doctor gasped as Clara's teeth nibbled on his lip and he could taste the strawberry of her lip balm, her hair just lightly brushing his cheek. He felt himself getting hard instantly and she obliged him, her hand shooting down.

"You still need to open your present from me," the Doctor said in between ragged breaths and Clara smiled at him, the love in her eyes making him shudder. "I mean, we can wait until afterwards if you'd prefer…"

"Don't be silly Chin," Clara teased. "Of course I want to open it now." She grabbed it off the pile and tore into it, confused by what she saw for just a moment. "It's a drawer," she said. "It's a drawer," she realised and smiled, a big beaming grin that showed no signs of going anywhere. "I thought drawers were just one step away from moving in together?"

"They are," he replied with a chuckle. "And you've already told me that's going to happen. I just thought I'd fill in the gaps. After all, what kind of decent man moves in with the love of his life without offering her a drawer first?"

"No man I consider the love of my life," Clara replied, kissing him deeply. "Thank goodness you bought me this drawer or we'd probably have to break up. I would have been so heartbroken as well, I was really starting to get fond of having you around."

"Please Closwald," the Doctor smirked, kissing her back and then sending his hands to her waist. "You couldn't get rid of me if you tried. The drawer was just to make you feel more secure about the fact that you're completely irreversibly in love with me."

"Oh am I now?" Clara teased, biting her lip the way she always did. They were dancing gently now, hands around each other and swaying lightly in the middle of the room. "I think you're confusing in love with mild affection. It's easy to get those two mixed up. Never mind, I'm sure I can learn to love you. After all, I have no intention of going anywhere. I've got an entire lifetime to keep falling in love with you. I do it every day you know," she admitted. "Every single day you'll just do something or say something and I'll find myself pitching off a cliff, right back into the love that I've not even climbed out of."

"That's because we're perfect together," the Doctor told her and glanced upwards. They'd been gently moving in one direction and she realised now that he'd been moving her to a specific place. "Mistletoe," he whispered and Clara blushed crimson. She should have seen that coming. She leaned up as he leaned down and their lips met in a collision that sent both their hearts pounding into overdrive. She had her hands under his t-shirt, rubbing them gently up and down his chest. His own hands were in her hair, grappling with her chocolate locks. His right hand became entangled and his left shot to her waist, teasing her side. Their kiss deepened and Clara's hands were scraping down his back, her nails digging in as his raked her side. His t-shirt disappeared now and hers wasn't far behind, leaving them both topless as she hadn't put on a bra that morning. His hands were cupping her breast and he broke the kiss to nibble her nipple. She snapped at his neck like a vampire and the pain felt good as she sucked. The Doctor laced kisses down Clara's chest, working his way to her waistband and there he waited a few seconds, tantalising her as he removed the pair of his boxers that she'd borrowed. His own were already skating down and they both stepped out of them.

The Doctor kissed her lower and she moaned in pleasure, her own lips still on his neck as she buried her head in his shoulder. He pulled her legs out from under her and his hands were around her back to lower her to the floor. She tasted herself on his lips as he kissed her again and she felt him enter. Clara's moans grew louder as he worked his magic and the Doctor felt himself getting closer to the abyss. She screamed, a sound that triggered him and he roared alongside her and then rolled off of her. They were lying side by side on the lounge floor, panting and shooting each other cheeky looks like they'd done something very naughty. Their wrapped and unwrapped presents were only feet away and Clara allowed herself a giggle that the Doctor joined in with.

"Well that was fun," she said after an extended pause. He sat up and pulled her into a seating position. She kissed him on the cheek this time and he flushed, the way he always did. Clara found herself completely and utterly enamoured with this strange man, the man who had found a place in her heart. She didn't want this day, this Christmas, this time with him to end. University and her parents and everything was beckoning, just around the corner, tantalisingly poking its head out and yelling 'Boo!' when she was curled up in bed with him.

The rest of the present opening was fairly average in comparison, although they both got some decent gifts. After they had properly unwrapped everything and ended up having a wrapping paper fight, which they both argued that they didn't start, resulting in a wrestling match over who started the wrapping paper fight, the Doctor told informed her that they should get some breakfast. Pancakes, he said with a shout as he got to work and Clara made the tea. They made a great team, she told herself as the Doctor sang Christmas carols at the top of his voice and she cheerily joined in, not one to let the Christmas spirit die. As ever, his cooking was utterly delicious and she found herself heaping syrup and sugar onto her pancakes, whilst the Doctor looked on in disgust, dipping his in custard and informing her that custard was without a shadow of a doubt the greatest food ever invented. Clara suspected he'd have custard with his turkey later if she didn't stop him.

When breakfast was finished, the Doctor suggested a film. She agreed, mainly because she loved the idea of spending her entire Christmas curled up in bed with the man she loved, watching whatever rubbish he happened to suggest. Sure enough, Die Hard, which he insisted was a Christmas movie because it was set at Christmas. Clara didn't mind, she enjoyed Die Hard and he was a great snuggler. They managed to get two-thirds of the way through before they ended up kissing again and sure enough one thing led to another, Clara breaking things off so she could watch the final fight scene and the Doctor grumbling something about Snape as he sat up, frustrated. Clara asked him what time they were having Christmas dinner and at that he looked at the clock, muttered a small curse and hurtled into the kitchen to put the turkey on. Clara ran a hot bath and sidled in, grateful when he joined her a few minutes later.

After the bath, they played zombies on his Xbox for a bit. Clara wondered why he'd got the thing; all he did was yell for Clara's help while she did most of the shooting and reviving. She couldn't go two feet away without the Doctor yelping as a zombie found him and despite his uselessness, they managed to get quite far before Clara was cornered and finished off.

"I'm going to bake my mum's Christmas soufflé!" she informed him, waiting to see which of his standard responses he'd go for, feigning enthusiasm or abject sarcasm.

"I can't wait dear, I'm sure you'll crack it this time!" Ah enthusiasm it was to be. The Doctor offered to help her, but Clara was determined to manage it on her own. The Doctor may have called her soufflé girl but in her own mind, Clara could never be soufflé girl until she cracked it. Until she finally made the perfect soufflé. Her mum's soufflé.

She strongly suspected that the Doctor would humour her, as he so often did when tasting her. He also tended to fail miserably as pretending to love something is difficult when the mere taste of it makes you gag. She loved that he tried, even though she was utterly useless at baking soufflés. The soufflé wasn't the soufflé; she told herself for the millionth time, the soufflé was the recipe. The Doctor sat down to taste the soufflé after checking that he was where he needed to be on the Christmas cooking and smiled warmly at Clara, just about managing to hide the dread in his eyes. She appreciated his best efforts, just like he appreciated hers. The Doctor took a bite of her soufflé, which at least looked like it was somewhere close to properly formed and the surprise and delight on his face warmed her heart.

"Clara, it's delicious!" he beamed, no hint of a lie in his voice or eyes. She had been expecting this response, but even so, he acted like he actually meant it. Could she have finally cracked it? Clara shovelled a mouthful in and was hit by a delicious taste of soufflé, utterly beautiful but…

"Not quite my mum's," she said, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice. "I mean it's probably the best soufflé that I've ever made, but it's still not there. No matter what I do, my best efforts, it's still not the soufflé. It's not my mum's soufflé."

"Hey," the Doctor was wrapping his arm around her and she cuddled into it. "She'd be touched that you were still trying. And she'd be proud of all the progress you've made. After all, it's the right shape, you didn't poison anyone and it tastes delicious! Maybe you should for once appreciate a job well done. It's Christmas Clara Oswald and you made a wonderful soufflé and I think we should enjoy it."

"Why have you never offered to help me?" Clara asked, as they dug in and the Doctor shot her a confused look. "Sorry, I don't mean that in a bad way," she clarified. "It's just; you made my mum's soufflé, perfect on your first try. You could teach me how to do it in a day. But you've never offered. You've never asked me if I wanted your help. I mean, I don't want your help, but it doesn't seem very you not to at the least make the offer."

"I assumed you wouldn't want my help," the Doctor replied honestly. "And I assumed correctly. Clara, the reason you keep baking soufflés is that they're an intimate connection to your mother, a secret that only the Oswald women share. If I interfere, if I teach you how to do it, then that makes it my soufflé and not yours or your mum's. I know in my heart that someday, you will perfect your mum's soufflé and then probably go on to design something even better and you'll feel all the more happy on that day knowing that you did it on your own. Well not on your own. Just the two of you. And on that day, you will well and truly be Soufflé Girl."

"And what if I never make it?" Clara whispered and the Doctor kissed the top of her forehead reassuringly. She knew he was trying to make her feel better, and it was working, but all she could think about was the soufflé and how agonizingly close she had been. Her Christmas soufflé. The best soufflé she had ever produced. And it still wasn't enough, wasn't good enough. She took another bite of it and found it impossible to be satisfied by it. She loved the taste, but each bite felt like a reminder of her failure. The Doctor was hoarding it and she hoped it was because he'd sensed her disappointment but she also put it down to the fact that he was starving and enjoying it too much to share. She allowed herself a smile at that. At her Doctor. He always knew what to do to make her feel better.

"Closwald?" he asked eventually and she shot him a glare at the use of that nickname. "Sorry," he added quickly. "I know your mum would be so very proud of you. And so am I. Never forget that. She might not be here to guide you, but I love you so much, I can be here from the both of us. I know she'd want you to be happy and that's what I want to give you, every single day."

"She'd love you," Clara replied with a tear laden smile and the Doctor raised an eyebrow. Clara rarely ever spoke about her mother and when she did, she was always tentative. "I'm sure if she's still out there somewhere, looking down on us, she'd be so very happy that I met you and that we fell in love. Because you remind me of her sometimes. When you say something or do something, I can just imagine her doing it. I can picture her, in my head, doing the same thing and it makes me smile."

"What was she like?" the Doctor asked cautiously and at this, Clara smiled nostalgically, as if she was a million miles away inside her head.

"She was an amazing woman. She was the kindest woman I've ever known and she always looked after me. She'd have done anything for me. Anything except stay alive," Clara added quietly. "But I suppose she couldn't help that. I sometimes blamed her but I couldn't stay angry at her because she spent her whole life putting my first. She did everything for me that she could. She tried to teach me her soufflé recipe and I as quite good at it. But when she passed, I was never able to replicate it. Never able to find that spark again." Clara paused and nestled against the Doctor, as he kissed the top of her head. "Merry Christmas Doctor."

"Merry Christmas Clara."


	25. Chapter 25: Happy New Year

***Hello everyone! I hope you're all looking forward to the weekend, I know I am. So, quick writing update, I hit the 100,000 words and 200 page mark, which I'm really happy about. Chapters 31 and maybe 32 will be finished today depending on how much work for uni I end up doing. I'm at an annoying point in the story because I know something massive is about to happen and I'm struggling to get through the necessary filler bits and bobs that I need to write to get there. Anyway, following on from a Christmas chapter, a New Years chapter and some more Tom action, plus a look at what happened when Clara went home...I hope you enjoy and check back tomorrow for a cracker and the return of a major character from earlier on...As ever, thanks so much for those of you out there who keep on reviewing, it warms my heart. But equal thanks to anyone who follows this story, reads this story and who has favourited. Please keep it up, it keeps me ticking over :) I have now over 150 reviews, 50 favourites and 87 followers, plus nearly 14,000 reads so WOW you guys are the best. The Potter Doctor out for now.***

* * *

The slamming of his door, so fierce that he was surprised his whole apartment wasn't shaking, alerted the Doctor to Clara's presence. She stormed into the bedroom and hurled her case to the floor, screaming in frustration. She locked eyes with the Doctor and he smiled, trying to calm her nerves but seeing that he was failing miserably. He stood up and snaked an arm around her, kissing the top of her forehead and rocking her gently back and forth in the hug. She pressed her head against his chest and he could feel her breaths, long and deep as to calm herself. She shot him an apologetic smile and then returned herself to being engrossed in his body, her hand subconsciously tracing circles on his lower back, which made him shiver in content.

"I know I promised to extend the olive branch," Clara mumbled into him and he glanced down at her to try and better decipher her. "But can I just give up now?" She broke the hug and flopped down onto the bed, the Doctor a moment behind her. "Bitch-Face is impossible. She's spent the whole of the two days trying to convince me to try on the most hideous bridesmaids dresses known to man and decide what to do with my hair and makeup and I swear to God if she refers to us as a great big happy family, one more fucking time!"

"Clara!" the Doctor rubbed her shoulders gently and she took another deep breath.

"I am happy for him," she promised the Doctor. "I've made peace with the fact that he wants to move on, is moving on. But I can't stand their lack of sensitivity, her lack of care. I mean, I'm trying so damn hard to accept what is happening and I'm trying to be there for my dad but Bitch-Face does not understand that she is not and will never be my mother." Clara felt a tear roll down her cheek and the Doctor swept it away. "She can be there for my dad and she can be his replacement for my mum, I can understand that and I'm starting to be okay with it. But I don't want a replacement mother. There is no woman on this planet that can compete with my real mum, who will ever make me feel the way she did. And I won't have this woman thinking that she can, that she is. She can be my father's new bride, but she will never be anything to me beyond that. The woman who my dad likes. I'm not saying I don't want a relationship with her," Clara continued and the Doctor was nodding appreciatively. "But I hate the way she's trying to force it, and the way she acts as though she's here for me. She and my father have not been there for me. The last year, the only person who has really been for me the entire time this has been going on is sat in this room. Acting like she cares for two days when I'm there then not even dropping me a text for the other months on end, leaving all that to my dad is not motherhood. And I won't let her think that it is."

Clara was finished now and had her emotions back under control. She let the Doctor embrace her and she kissed him, a deep relief of pressure. They locked hands and she instantly felt better. She could work things out with Bitch-Face, she knew she could. And then, the Doctor was smirking and Clara's eyebrows furrowed as she frowned at him.

"Can I see some of the dresses?" he asked, the irrepressible smirk on his face growing as his wicked idea brought up horror for Clara as she frantically shook her head. "They couldn't have been that bad, surely?"

"Don't test me!" Clara warned him and he laughed at that. "I'm serious, some of them were truly horrific. I mean I refused to even try half of them, they were so ugly. Dad kept throwing a fit, but I had to draw the line somewhere. You should have seen this pink one Doctor, oh dear God. I'm so glad to be back. I promised to keep in touch though, so I expect Dad will be stealing our weekend time for more dress fittings and the like. Although you're still welcome to come to everything, you're my plus-one for the wedding after all. They've set a date," she continued absent-mindedly. "June 10th. Just after exams. As soon as I'm done at uni, I'll have to head back for the final week of preparations. I told Dad I'd be home for a lot of Easter as well, I'd have to be to help sort everything out. Eugh," Clara threw back her head in frustration. "Between all the work I have to do and planning this bloody wedding, I don't know when we'll get much time for ourselves in the next few months. I'm really sorry Doctor."

"Don't apologise," he told her tenderly, kissing her and she caught her breath. "It's not your fault. None of this is your fault and you're handling it remarkably well. You didn't punch anyone while you were at home did you?"

"No," Clara smiled a little and kissed him. "Just my pillow a few million times. But no repeats of the restaurant incident and I didn't even get asked to apologise for it, although I suppose I should have. I did throw an entire cake in her face. Which she deserved. I think, it's hard to tell anymore. Do you think I've been unreasonable?" she asked him and he looked her up and down before smiling and shaking his head.

"I think you lost your mum and nobody can fix that. And that Mandy, I mean Bitch-Face acting like she can just paper over the cracks and act as though nothing has changed is bullshit. She might have her heart in the right place, but it's an insult to your mum's memory to suggest that she can be a replacement for her and you have every right to be angry."

Clara was shocked. So often, the Doctor would support her in her arguments against her father, but he was always on the fence, supporting Clara because he had to, telling her what she wanted to hear at times and at others telling her to be nicer to her father or trying to coax her into giving him a chance. To hear him so genuinely and passionately defend her was a pleasant surprise. She stepped up and kissed him, a deep, long kiss that was only broken when the Doctor asked: "So what happened with moving out?"

Clara went pink. "I want to move in with you," she confessed. "But I'm still at uni, you're sort of working in London and I want us to be stable and know where we're at. So for now, I'm keeping some stuff up with my dad and when I'm not with you or at uni, that's where I'll be. I suppose I'll have to tolerate Bitch-Face until after the wedding and then, after that, we'll see where you're at and what's happening with my third year and go from there. We can't exactly buy a house yet."

"Listen to you," the Doctor's lips curled upwards. "Reasonable and practical. Clara Oswald, talk sensible to me, I love it." Only the Doctor could turn the phrase: 'Talk sensible to me' sexual but he managed it. She smiled and whispered in his ear. Her lips were so close that she reached out and nibbled, causing him to whip round, his eyes alive with passion. They kissed again and this time, they both knew where it was going. Clara undressed him swiftly, growling at his chest as she clawed at it, his own hands tugging at her hair and ripping off her shirt. They shared a look. It was a look of pure love, tempered with overwhelming longing and lust as they knew each other completely. They had learned every crevice of the other's body, running their hands over each part, each slight tremor and each contour. Clara's hand was at his face, his was on her side. They kissed again and that set them away.

* * *

2014 had been a brutal year for Clara. But it had ended on a high, she told herself. Or at least, she was hoping it would. Tom had invited them to a New Year's Bash at his house, while his parents were out of town. Plenty of his friends from London would be there and Clara was excited. It took her and the Doctor a long time to get out of the house, because every time they went to get dressed, they ended up distracted and falling back into bed. He was wearing a tuxedo with a jet black bow tie and she had a deep velvet dress, the colour of sapphires. Her hair was teasingly curled and his trademark quiff was in place. They linked arms as they knocked and Tom's sister Chloe opened the door almost lazily, a drink in one hand. She nodded to Clara as they entered, eyeing the Doctor slightly suspiciously. Tom was straddling a girl on the sofa, a red head and he climbed off her to greet them, pulling Clara into a slightly boozy hug and saluting to the Doctor, who returned the gesture.

"I think he might have already started drinking!" the Doctor whispered to Clara, and she snorted before she realised that he'd been being serious. She forgot his slight obliviousness to social situations. She thrust the wine bottle they'd brought into the Doctor's hand and hunted for glasses as Tom returned to the scantily clad female on his sofa. Clara rolled her eyes at him and glanced at her watch before finding a couple of glasses in the kitchen. It was half ten. The Doctor poured them each a glass and Clara chinked the Doctor's glass before drinking. The wine was white and crisp and she loved it, sipping again almost instantly. She wasn't planning on getting overly drunk and half a bottle of wine wouldn't even touch her, but there was plenty of other booze around if things got dull. She felt the Doctor's hand loop around her shoulder as he sipped his own wine and she chuckled as Tom entered the kitchen, pulled out a bottle of vodka and poured three shots.

"Stop drinking that piss water and get a real drink down you Oswald. You too big guy!" he pointed at the Doctor, who had been cautiously sipping his wine. He slung the shots their way and Clara caught them, handing the Doctor his and letting the liquid down her throat, the Doctor reluctantly following suit. Clara giggled at his spluttering and Tom looked disgusted. "Come on Doctor, you can do better than that," he smiled.

"What happened to your red head?" Clara smirked and Tom's face fell. "She tell you to hit the road?"

"Something like that," Tom muttered and then his eyes widened. "Oh hell."

Clara turned to see what had startled him and there was a big man storming through the living room into the kitchen towards them, the red head two steps behind him. The bloke looked extremely angry and a crowd was forming behind him, the red head appealing to him to stop. Clara put two and two together and shot Tom an exasperated look, her friend replying with a shoulder shrug.

"She didn't mention the boyfriend until he gate crashed the party," Tom insisted. "It's hardly my fault." Clara doubted how entirely accurate that was, but also had no desire to see Tom beaten to a bloody pulp either. She tried to step in front of him and the man stopped, clearly not wanting to hit Clara any more than Clara wanted to be hit.

"Move aside girl," he growled. "This is between me and the little shit who got with my girlfriend."

"Listen," Clara tried reasonably. "He didn't know about your girlfriend not being single, or I'm sure he wouldn't have done what he'd done. Hey!" she squirmed as the Doctor pulled her aside as the man had decided not to wait and was throwing a punch. Tom went to duck but was too late and the fist connected. Clara tried to break free of the Doctor's hold as the man kicked Tom in the stomach and he'd dropped but the Doctor had already let go of her and was racing over to assist. A crowd had formed now and a couple of blokes were trying to drag the guy off, but he kicked Tom in the gut again before the Doctor picked up a chair and crashed it over the back of the larger man's head. He swivelled, rage in his eyes and the Doctor realised his mistake. Clara flung herself in the way, knocking the Doctor to the ground as the man threw another wild punch and staggered. By this point, people were dragging him away and the Doctor went to help them. Clara picked herself up and raced over to where Tom was lying on the floor, his face a bloody mess and holding his stomach as he groaned. She put an arm around him and helped him to a chair.

"Are you alright?" Clara gasped. "Sorry, stupid question. Let me grab you a cloth for all that blood."

The Doctor returned, looking thoroughly annoyed a few minutes later, as Clara wiped Tom's face clean of blood tenderly. She shot an apologetic smile at the Doctor, which he waved off and sat beside them.

"Thank you guys," Tom groaned through the pain. "I don't know what I would've done if not for you two. You really had my back."

"I didn't do anything," Clara insisted. "I didn't hit the guy round the head with a chair!" She shot the Doctor a look and Tom howled in pain as Clara dabbed his nose. The Doctor put up his arms as if to suggest there was nothing else he could do. Clara smiled and Tom moaned again as she wiped his chin free of blood. "You're such a baby!" she snorted and Tom pulled an incredulous face.

"You know you weren't feeling too great the first time I saw you with that huge black eye," he countered. "This is my own fault," he conceded and Clara smiled wistfully as the Doctor put a hand on Tom's shoulder. "I should have realised that sooner or later something like this would happen. All girls are liars, I should've known that one would use me to cheat, not being in a relationship doesn't protect me from that. Sorry Clara, present company accepted," he added with a smile and she patted his head affectionately.

"You just need to find someone that you can trust," she implored him. "That you can truly love, and that you really want to be in a relationship with. You can't let people like Lizzie put you off trying to be happy."

"Don't you think I know that?" Tom groaned. "But it's almost impossible. There are so few girls that I can trust and those tend to either be ugly or taken or both. Or they remind me so much of my sister that even thinking about having sex with them makes me feel ill. I call that the Clara category," he added with a smirk and she glared at him.

"You know I'm trying to be nice to you here," she warned him. "But I could just as easily hit you with this cloth than mop up your blood, if that's what you'd prefer." He shook his head. "I thought so. You should go to see someone about your stomach, in case you have internal bleeding or cracked ribs." He shook his head again and Clara pulled an annoyed pose.

"You'd make a great teacher," he informed her and she was taken-aback by this. She'd never really considered what she wanted to do as a career but when he said it, it was like a light had switched on in her head. She smiled at him and swatted his arm playfully. "And thanks for looking after me, but I'm fine. My stomach's feeling better already. I just need to lie down for a bit and hurl."

Clara took Tom up to his bedroom and left him settled up there, content that he'd be alright. She went back downstairs, where the party was back in full swing and the Doctor was sat in the corner, still sipping on wine. Clara joined him, grinning at him as she downed her glass and poured herself some more. The Doctor was eyeing her dubiously and Clara rolled her eyes at him.

"Would you relax? This is only my second glass and it's New Year!" she giggled. "Only another hour or so until we hit 2015. You know, Tom has a spare room, we could enter 2015 in style," she giggled pulling herself closer to him and kissing his neck. The Doctor was still unused to public displays of affection and fluctuated away from Clara slightly, kissing her cheek and finishing his wine. Clara felt knocked back, but the Doctor had stood up and was taking her hand. The smile on his face reassured her and she took the steps two at a time as they crashed into the thankfully still empty spare bedroom. Clara felt more alcohol was called for, so she had snagged the vodka to go with the wine. Tom wouldn't be drinking it anyway and had told her to take it. She poured more shots as the Doctor locked the door and removed his jacket. Clara took her shot and handed the Doctor one which he grimaced before taking. She guzzled more wine and the Doctor followed suit, pulling a face.

"We can't all drink as much as you can," he complained as she thrust another shot on him. Clara rolled her eyes and clambered into bed, removing the Doctor's waistcoat. They cuddled closer and Clara kissed him lightly. His eyes met hers and their lips met in a moment of love, not passion. Clara felt her world spin as he kissed her, his hands down her top and hers down his trousers. Lust fuelled her, the love of a few moments ago still present but rapidly being overwhelmed by her desire to have the Doctor inside her. They took their time, waiting so that when the New Year came, they weren't already finished. It was one of the longest, most beautiful hours of Clara's life and it was an hour she'd never forget. Finally, he entered her and her entire world went to ecstasy. As the fireworks went off outside the window, Clara felt fireworks going off inside of her and she crumpled into the Doctor, screaming his name as she felt her world shatter into a million pieces. She clung to him like her life depended on it, but the waves of pleasure kept on coming and coming. Every time she thought he would finish, he found another burst, driving Clara over the point of no return. Then, just when she thought he was going to kill her with pleasure, he relented and finished. They slumped back and exchanged a look, one that said everything that needed to be said. Happy New Year.


	26. Chapter 26: Jessie II

***Morning or afternoon or whatever time of day it is. Today's update comes from the wallowing basement pit of despair and headaches that is my huge hangover so I apologise if my AN isn't the most eloquent. I thoroughly intend to spend my Saturday screaming at sport, eating reheated takeaway and hopefully, if I feel better later on, finishing Chapter 32 and doing some prompts. So three things about this chapter. The first, as you might have guessed from the title, is that Jessie is back! I'm not entirely happy with his characterization here but I've tried to amend that later on a bit. The second thing is that the Doctor isn't in this chapter at all, apart from one text and by reference, which I apologise for. There are a few points in this story, by necessity, where he's not around, mainly because of the London thing. There are three main reasons for this. Firstly, it's Clara's story and she's the central character. Secondly, I can't really think of anything even remotely interesting to happen in London, so the Doctor can only be around on weekends. And thirdly, I don't like writing from the Doctor's perspective if I can help it. There is one chapter later on in which Clara is completely absent, and we get a whole chapter of the Doctor, but I'm not sure if it's going to be any good (I've not written it yet). The third thing about this chapter is that if you don't love Tom Parker already, I'd put a lot of money on you'll like him by the end of it. Sorry for the rant, I'm going back to my basement now. Thanks as ever to all my amazing readers and those wonderful people out there who follow, favourite and review. I also saw this story being promoted on Tumblr yesterday, which was a very nice surprise. Lots of love, The Potter Doctor.***

* * *

Clara Oswald was sat in the corner of the little tea shop, her face hidden behind a magazine about cars that she wasn't really reading, her eyes trained across the room to the other side, where Annabelle and Tom were sat, chatting and giggling. Clara wished the Doctor could have been here to see it, as he had been highly sceptical when Clara informed him that she was going to match-make her two best friends. But here they were, sat down opposite each other, on a date and enjoying themselves. Annabelle had been game right from the get-go, as Clara had suspected that she'd been harbouring a crush on Tom for a while. In any case, Annabelle needed someone to cheer her up, as things with her mum were not going well. As for Tom himself, things had proved trickier. The incident at New Year had shaken him up more than he was willing to admit and Clara was worried about him. His behaviour had been less than his usual bright self and he'd lost his spark. She had finally persuaded him to give Annabelle a chance and she was so glad that they were getting along.

"Another tea Miss?" asked the waitress and Clara nodded, not taking her eyes off Tom, who had reached out to touch Annabelle's hand. Clara let out a small squeal and the waitress raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sorry," Clara apologised, focusing on the woman. "Yes please, milk and sugar. Thanks."

The waitress vanished off, muttering incessantly as Clara returned her attention to Annabelle and Tom. It had been a couple of weeks since they'd returned to uni and so far everything was working out. She was missing the Doctor, as she always did and her father kept bugging her about various bits and pieces that she didn't have the time or the inclination to deal with, but things were good. In the few moments that she'd taken her eyes off of the couple, Tom had vanished. Clara swore under her breath and looked around for him. He'd probably just gone to the loo.

"Did he notice?" Tom asked, millimetres from her ear and Clara jumped a mile, Tom suppressing a snort of laughter. "Sorry, couldn't resist. I knew you'd be here, you're far too curious to let us have our date in peace Oswald. So, did he notice?"

"Of course he didn't!" Clara replied, her voice strained as she kept her eyes on Annabelle. "I didn't expect him to. It's the Doctor. I could probably change my skin tone and he'd wondered if I'd done something to my lips. A little haircut is not the sort of thing he's ever going to notice. And I didn't need him to. I didn't do it for him."

"You're still disappointed though," Tom said, always knowing exactly what Clara was thinking. And of course he was right. She'd spent ages curling it after she'd had it cut, layered, highlighted and dyed and of course, the Doctor hadn't even mentioned it, even when she made a couple of hints of various subtlety. Clara shot Tom a look. She had no interest in pandering to his games today, there were much more important things at stake.

"Don't change the subject," she hissed. "How's the date going? Why are you over here?"

"I wanted to check up on you," Tom replied. "Used the toilet excuse, that bought me a few minutes. Clara, as much as I love the fact that you're so invested in me and Annabelle, kindly do me a favour and piss off." She raised an eyebrow at him. "It's really off-putting, knowing that you're only a few feet away, scrutinising my every move and I think you might be right about Anna being exactly what I need. So just give us some space, please."

Clara grumbled as she sidled out of her seat and shot him a glance to signify that he owed her one. She kept her collar up as she shot past Annabelle to the door and lingered outside the café for a moment, watching as Tom sat back down opposite Annabelle and looked over the blonde's shoulder to where Clara was watching. His eyebrow raised half an inch and Clara was sure Annabelle wouldn't notice. But she got the message, loud and clear. Clara pulled out her phone, thumbing a celebratory text to the Doctor, and she was so engrossed in it that she almost bumped into someone coming the other way.

"Hey watch it!" a familiar voice growled, then hardened. "Oh. Hello Clara."

"Jessie," Clara breathed, immediately feeling put onto the back foot as she finished her text to the Doctor. "I mean, it's been a while. How are you doing?" She didn't know why she was being so polite to him; after all, he'd been a massive arsehole to her. But he had been fairly nice to her, especially in the hospital. Maybe he'd just made a mistake.

"I'm…" he was wincing. "I'm fine Clara," he lied and Clara knew it was a lie instantly but didn't challenge him on it. If he wanted to pretend he was fine then that was his business. Clara didn't have a right to interfere. "You look fantastic," he informed her. "I love your hair." Clara reached up subconsciously to touch it and cursed at his suaveness. "I know I was a jerk to you and I just wanted to apologise for that," he began. "And I know you're with the Doctor now, but if things don't work out between you, you know where I am. I suppose you're going to the party tomorrow night?"

Typical Jessie. He'd managed to make her feel both special and total crap in five seconds flat. Clara shot him an icy look and he took a step back. Clara wanted to say so much to him. About how whatever he thought, she and the Doctor would work out and there was nothing he or anyone else could do about it. She wanted to tell him that even if she fell out of love with the Doctor, which she didn't think would be possible or even if he broke her heart and she needed a shoulder to cry on, that she would rather jump into the nearest lion enclosure at the zoo than let it be him. She wanted to tell him that no matter what he did, he would never be able to make up for what he had done to her and that she would never be able to forgive him, let alone ever consider getting back with him. But Clara had changed. She was more tolerant, less angry. She had long ago stopped hating Jessie and now she almost pitied him. She smiled at him, a façade smile but a smile nevertheless and put an arm on his shoulder reassuringly.

"Thanks for the offer Jessie," she said, as sweetly as she could muster. "But I don't think it's going to happen. You kind of burnt that bridge. I'll probably see you at the party." She managed to avoid adding a fuck off at the end of it as she stepped past him, ignoring the angry flash in his eyes, breathing more easily as she carried on walking. The party he'd been referring to was one being thrown by another English student they both knew called Jason and of course Clara would be going, Annabelle had been talking about nothing else for the last week or so. Clara glanced back but Jessie was already walking the other way, hood up and hands in pockets. If she was being honest with herself, she was very happy to see that she hadn't been the only one negatively affected by their break up. Jessie deserved it. Although, she still couldn't quite convince herself that she didn't. At that point, her phone blared as the Doctor had replied.

_Clara, I knew you could do it! I'm sure things between Tom and Annabelle will be bright and sunny forever and they'll get married and have kids and we can be the Godparents and I'm not ready to be a Godparent Clara, what if the kids start copying me? I mean what if I tie a bow tie too tight and strangle them. CLARA, we need to break them up quickly, before I accidently kill one of their children! Also, sorry I didn't mention it earlier but I noticed your hair's shorter and browner. It looks absolutely gorgeous. I love you. Doctor xx_

So he had noticed after all? Clara smiled to herself and inside the café; Annabelle shot Tom a confused look as he smirked at his own phone. "Sorry," he apologised, placing it down. "The Doctor just needed some helpful hints on how to be a good boyfriend to Clara," he chuckled. "I was just supplying them." The Doctor's text was lying open and Annabelle glanced at it. '_How did I not notice the hair?! Thank you so much! Doctor.' _Annabelle smiled at it. Maybe there was hope for Tom Parker yet.

* * *

Clara felt good about herself as she slipped into the dress. It was muddy brown, but she preferred to think of it as chocolate brown and matched her hair and eyes perfectly. She whistled cheerily as she puffed up her hair and applied eyeliner. Her lips were full and red and she had heels that were much too big for her. Her wine bottle was in her bag and she decided that tonight, she was going to get a good level of drunk. Not smashed, but not exactly sober either. After all, it wasn't as if she had anyone to stay sober for, with the Doctor in London. She had squealed in delight when Annabelle had shyly informed her that Tom would be joining them that night as her date and Clara had made sure she was ready to leave a few minutes earlier than Tom and Annabelle, giving them a chance to walk together alone. Clara finished touching up her makeup and slipped away quietly, not giving Annabelle a chance to ask her to stay. Clara walked quickly through the brisk night air; a feeling of unease always surrounded her as she passed alleyways and dark corners. She hurried on, shivering slightly against the cold and she felt a huge sigh of relief leave her as she knocked on Jason's door as she was greeted by a plethora of drunken English students.

Clara giggled as she danced, the wine hitting her much harder than she'd expected. She'd only had a couple of glasses, but already she could feel the world start to swirl around her. Looking back on it, she'd realise that she probably should have worked out what was going on, but she was far too out of it to put two and two together. Clara staggered backwards and felt hands on her back shoring her up. She stumbled back into the middle of the dance floor and felt the overwhelming urge to pass out. She found herself moving upstairs, desperate to find a bathroom and somewhere to crash. There was the bathroom alright and she thundered into it, unleashing the contents of her stomach on the unsuspecting toilet.

"Clara? Are you alright?"

The voice was familiar, warming and so Clara followed it, shaking her head slightly as she fell into the arms of the person with the voice. She hoped it was the Doctor. She called for him, but the Doctor didn't hear her and carried her out the room and into the bedroom nearby, which was empty. He set her down on the bed and Clara's vision focused for a moment. It was Jessie.

"Jessie?" she whispered. "Where's the Doctor?"

"He's not here," Jessie replied quietly and she saw him cross to the door and shut it. The door didn't have a lock but Jessie moved a small bookcase in front of it. Clara felt herself begin to panic as she started to realise that she was trapped alone with her ex-boyfriend. Jessie was smiling, but it wasn't a happy, warming smile, it had a sinister edge to it. "He's not coming Clara, your precious Doctor. You could have been so much happier with me. I know I dumped you, but that was my mistake. A mistake that tonight I shall rectify."

Clara felt panic rush through her and she screamed, the Doctor's name echoing as she shouted it as loudly as her tiny, weakened voice could muster. She heard him reply, she heard the Doctor call for her. Jessie looked wicked, a demon in disguise as he climbed on top of her and kissed her. Clara pushed him off but she barely had enough strength to sit up, let alone throw off a fully grown man. He snarled as they kissed and his hand was around the back of her dress, trying to unzip her. Clara wanted to die. She wanted the Doctor. She yelled his name but it was muffled and then she heard a tremendous crashing noise. Jessie carried on kissing her and her dress was sliding down her. Clara would be thankful she wore underwear looking back as the crashing intensified and then the Doctor burst into the room to answer her prayers. Jessie climbed off her to face him.

"Get the fuck away from her you bastard!" the Doctor shouted in a voice that wasn't quite his. But he had to be the Doctor; nobody else would come for Clara.

"Doctor!" Clara called weakly as Jessie took a fist to the face from the Doctor, stumbling backwards. The Doctor charged and knocked Jessie to the ground, hitting him over and over until Clara felt herself being scooped up into his arms. "Doctor!" she breathed and tried to kiss him but he stopped her with a finger to her lips.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm not the Doctor. It's me Clara, it's Tom. You're going to be alright, I promise." He didn't say another word after that as Clara tried and failed to put the pieces together in her head. She felt herself grow dizzier and dizzier until she finally blacked out.

* * *

Clara woke up in her own bed, which was a pleasant surprise. She also was wearing the same muddy brown dress that she'd gone out in, which was even more of a surprise as one of her last memories was Jessie ripping it off of her. She rolled over and saw that Tom was sat in a chair by her bed, half asleep, his face a deathly pale white. He seemed to notice her and when he realised she was awake, his eyes widened and he shook himself fully into the land of the living. The relief on his face was palatable and he pulled her into a huge hug that Clara tentatively returned, her memory of the previous night fuzzy.

"Clara, thank fuck you're alright!" he breathed. "I was so worried. You were drugged," he explained quickly as Clara's eyes bulged. "Probably by that Jessie kid, it was horrible. Annabelle didn't realise how you could get so drunk so I ran my finger around your glass and there were pill fragments in there. I put two and two together and someone said they'd seen you upstairs with your ex so I panicked and came up after you. He'd blocked the door and I heard you calling for the Doctor, so I knew things were bad. I smashed my way in and well…" he paused. "How much do you remember?"

"I remember Jessie didn't rape me," Clara replied in a blunt voice. "Because you crashed your way into the room and beat the shit out of him. Which thank you for, so much by the way. I owe you about a billion."

"You don't owe me anything," Tom said gently, as Clara's eyes were big and teary, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I just did what any good friend would do. I brought you home, tidied you up and checked that you were okay. Then I slept here, because I didn't want to leave you alone. You kept asking for the Doctor, I was so tempted to call him but I wasn't sure that it was the right time or place to worry him. You should call him."

"No," Clara replied instantly, almost choking on her tears and Tom shot her a raised eyebrow. "No," she repeated. "He doesn't need to know. I mean, if he finds out, he'll murder Jessie. Full on kill him. Nobody knows except you, me and Jessie and he's not going to say anything. The Doctor will only overreact and go mental and worry about me and I don't want to put him through that. He'll probably rush up here and he's got his job and everything. And I don't need him right now."

"Clara," Tom's voice was almost pleading. "You can't just brush this under the carpet. You were almost raped and you look really shaken up about the whole thing. I lied to Annabelle's face about what happened and you clearly need to talk to someone. You need the Doctor or someone."

"I've got you," Clara replied simply, a weak smile on her face as she crawled closer to him. She curled up in her bed, as he stroked her hair gently as she sobbed. "Thank you Tom," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

"It's okay," Tom replied gently, as she looked up at him. His eyes were electric with concern and his smile was as comforting as any she'd seen. Clara had lied of course. She did need the Doctor. Now, more than ever. But he was more important. He had to come first. The Doctor could make everything better in an instant, but he was busy, working. So Clara would deal with it the long way round, the only way she could. And Tom could help her with that. Tom knew her almost as well as anyone. He was kind, caring and she could trust him. But, she told herself, whilst all of that was very true and Tom was as good a person as she could ask for to help her move forward, he still had one enormous flaw. Like almost everyone on the planet, he had a flaw, so striking that it made her conscious of it. She couldn't escape it. Tom's only problem, the only reason he couldn't take care of her.

He wasn't the Doctor.


	27. Chapter 27: Day of the Doctor

***Hi there troops. First off, apologies for the incredibly less than subtle title to this chapter and the references therein. I feel a disclaimer is due, I don't own Doctor Who or any of its affiliated characters blah blah. Anyway, this chapter has a lot to do, mainly dealing with the fallout from the previous chapter. This is also the chapter where I made that small decision that spiralled out of control. There's also some relationship developments (I explore Annabelle/Tom a bit further) and ultimately, I've dropped in another cliffhanger. Tomorrow's chapter is a game changer, so check back tomorrow about 7pm because of bloody uni. Thanks for stopping by, please keeping reading, reviewing, following and favouriting and thanks to everyone who has so far. You guys make my day :) TPD***

* * *

If the Doctor had noticed how shaky Clara had been in the last couple of weeks, he hadn't commented. She'd been very tentative around him and very quiet, and it had taken a few long late night chats with Tom before she felt anywhere near her normal self. It wasn't anywhere as traumatic, she supposed, as being almost burned alive and she couldn't remember a lot, thankfully because in the end she'd not had anything terrible happen. She had been very lucky. It was more the idea of what might have happened that frightened her. Jessie was scum, she had decided and thankfully, he had taken the liberty of disappearing for a few weeks and when he returned, he still looked a beaten man. Clara strongly suspected that several blokes in the English lectures had heard the story and were regularly beating the shit out of him. She didn't care, he deserved it. She asked Tom about it one day and the deliberate evasiveness of his response told her all she needed to know. Annabelle had heard on the grapevine and Clara had been fending off constant badgering about how she was holding up for days.

January turned into February and as the winter winds swirled, conversation about the incident had died down and Clara was all the more thankful for it. Jessie had become something of a social pariah and Clara appreciated the effort that people took to make it clear to her that they were on her side. Even if it was just the occasional pat on the shoulder from someone who she was merely an acquaintance with or the dirty look someone shot Jessie when he tried to sit near them. What she appreciated most was the way that nobody was blunt or direct about it; they never made her talk about it. And nobody had told the Doctor. Clara had been sorely tempted to tell him herself when she saw him but convinced herself that getting her boyfriend arrested for murder was not going to achieve anything. And she knew that the Doctor would worry, panic, lose his shit, kill Jessie and that would be the end of that. She could barely handle Annabelle and Jessie being so attentive, God knows what the Doctor would do if he found out. And for once, Clara knew she was being selfless. She wanted more than anything to tell him, but he didn't need to know and if he did, it would only upset him. As the term wore on, Clara felt the work load accelerate and cursed as more and more of her weekends with the Doctor were spent wracked with guilt and pain, constantly having to push him off so she could work on an essay. She had almost completely put off drinking and whenever she did, it was only with alcoholic drinks that hadn't left her sight for a second and she never left Tom or Annabelle's side. This new, cautious version of Clara worried them both and they were determined to drag her out of the shell that she had retreated into, despite her insistence that she was fine.

It was the Wednesday before Valentine's Day when Tom sat her down and told her that that night they were going out and Clara was going to get very drunk and enjoy herself. Clara had initially tried to push him off and away, informing him that she was fine and that she had an essay due the following week and all the usual excuses. But this time, he wasn't taking no for an answer. Clara wore jeans, which in her mind was a definite improvement but earned her a look of pure disgust from Annabelle. She pre-drank in the flat with Annabelle, Tom and a couple of people from English and the more drunk she felt herself get, the less anxious the whole situation became. By the time they hit the clubs, Clara was feeling a hell of a lot better and a fairly uneventful but very fun night later and Clara was nursing a hangover while Annabelle fried bacon and Tom made coffee.

"You didn't stay on the sofa last night," Clara pointed out, a smirk growing on her face as Tom and Annabelle exchanged a look. "You're both arseholes," Clara raised an eyebrow. "When the fuck were you planning on telling me?"

The teasing tone of Clara's voice seemed to relax them but they were both fumbling over their words and it was Tom who eventually managed to explain that the previous night had been their first time together. Clara thought it was adorable. They both thought it was awkward. Clara planned on interrogating them each individually, but that was subject matter for another time. Clara was much appreciative of the breakfast and the company and she went to her lectures that day feeling a lot better than she had in recent weeks. She managed to pin down Annabelle about how things had gone between her and Tom and the blonde was reluctant to divulge, despite her protestations that it was fine and Clara was somewhat suspicious of this. Annabelle's hesitant attitude, coupled with Tom's admission that he was too drunk to really remember, didn't fill Clara with confidence and she urged him to make a better go of it on Valentine's Day. Clara herself was excited for Valentine's Day with the Doctor. Or, as it referred to it when talking to her over the phone: The Day of the Doctor. Clara had snorted at this and told him it was a rubbish name for a day.

The Day of the Doctor rolled around and Clara was excited. She couldn't sleep that night and when she eventually left her room to get dressed at around 10am, she was greeted by the smell of pancakes wafting through the apartment. She giggled in delight and headed into the kitchen to confront Annabelle about the delicious smell, half expecting to see Tom there, pulling a Doctor and being all romantic for Annabelle. But it wasn't either of them.

"Hello Clara," the Doctor beamed, flipping a pancake and loading it onto a plate already stacked before flicking it in her direction. "Happy Valentine's Day. Or should I say happy Day of the Doctor? How are you doing this fine morning?" She ran over to him and kissed him deeply, before settling down to enjoy her pancakes. Of course the Doctor had made them so they were delicious.

"You're here early," Clara commented. "I wasn't expecting you for another few hours." He rolled his eyes at that. "Can you give me an hour to sneak out the boy I've been sleeping with while you've been gone out the apartment? Joking!" she quickly added as he went pale. "Sorry, I forgot you don't understand sarcasm. I'm amazing, all the better for seeing you. How's work?"

"I don't want to talk about work," the Doctor said quickly and Clara shot him a look of worry that he waved off. "It's nothing," he lied, Clara knew it instantly. "Nothing important, just a problem with the feedback lines, they're fluctuating again." There was something he wasn't telling her Clara knew it but she didn't want to badger. She didn't want to ruin the Day of the Doctor. The Doctor had sat opposite her with pancakes of his own. "No essays to do this weekend?" he asked quickly, the tone in his voice almost pleading. Clara nibbled her lip guiltily and covered it up by shoving another pancake into her mouth. The Doctor was looking at her with his big sad eyes and this was Valentine's Day, so Clara lied.

"Nope," she said, her own eyes bright and shining. "None at all. I'm all yours sweetheart."

* * *

After breakfast, they showered together and then Clara spent an hour trying to get dressed as the Doctor tried to cajole her into bed. Clara was still feeling a little tentative about the whole thing, but took a deep breath, as she didn't want him to see that she was upset and worry that it was something that he'd done, when he'd been nothing but perfect. Clara felt a lot better when she'd stopped trying to hold back and by the time Tom knocked to pick up Annabelle, the Doctor and Clara were sprawled on the kitchen floor, hiding from view. Annabelle shot the Doctor's torso, the only part she could see, a filthy glare as she left, her yellow flowery dress twirling around her and the Doctor and Clara collapsed into laughter as they carried on tussling. They curled up and watched Finding Nemo, their special occasion film that they both knew well enough to quote throughout the whole thing. Clara was so used to the feel of his body, having him connected with her, that when he shifted slightly, she felt as if a great wave had passed between them and the touch of his lips against hers still managed to send butterflies to her stomach.

"Clara," the Doctor's voice was quiet but it sent ricochets through her. "Did something happen while I've been gone? You've been very strange these last few weeks." Clara shuddered. So he had noticed. "I mean, I didn't want to say anything, but you seem better now, so I thought I'd check. I didn't want you to think I hadn't noticed because I always notice. I love you Clara, and I want to make sure you're alright."

Clara wanted to be selfless and brave, but there was nothing holding her back anymore. "Jessie," she said quickly and the Doctor's tender face pulled into a frown. "I mean he pitched up at a house party and spiked my drink." Clara took a deep breath as the Doctor's face had turned to thunder. She didn't know how best to word it. "He was all over me Doctor, I don't know what would have happened, I couldn't throw him off, as hard as I tried. I was screaming for you. And then, Tom pitched up and beat the shit out of him. I'm fine, Jessie didn't do anything. I was just a bit shaken up. Tom's been taking care of me. I know I should have told you," she was crying now and her words and tears were softening the Doctor's fury but only on the surface. Underneath, she knew he was bubbling, fit to burst. "But you were in London and I didn't want to worry you and I knew you'd do something you'd regret and Doctor I'm so sorry!"

Clara was crying on his shoulder now and the Doctor soothed her. He told her not to apologize, that it wasn't her fault, that none of it was her fault. He kissed her sweetly but didn't pressure her. For what seemed like an eternity, they sat there, him reassuring her as she sobbed, then she stopped crying and looked at him, allowing a smile to creep onto her face.

"I love you," she whispered. "You make everything better."

"If I'd been here, I wouldn't have to," the Doctor replied bitterly and Clara remembered in an instant why telling him had been a bad idea. "I should never have left you, should never have gone to London. This whole mess is my fault. If I'd been there, like a good boyfriend should, then Jessie would never have…"

"Doctor stop!" Clara held him closely and he shut up. "This isn't your fault. You did what you had to do; I can't always have you over my shoulder in case something happens. Tom was there and he did what he had to do. Everything worked out okay. Next time, I'll tell you straight off the bat, but I didn't want to worry you. I know you feel so helpless so far away, but I don't always need you." Her words didn't seem to convincing him anymore than she could convince herself. She could never let on that she silently hated the fact he was so far away. He'd quit his job and that wasn't going to fix anything.

"I promise," the Doctor swore and put his arm around her to pull her closer. "I will never leave you alone when you need me again. I will always be there when you need me Clara Oswald. More than anything, I promise that. You are my only priority."

Clara smiled but they both knew in their heart of hearts that it was a promise that the Doctor would never be able to keep. Clara could already tell from his reaction that there was something he was keeping from her. Whatever it was, it was probably to do with London and it probably wasn't good. He spoke eventually, his heart pounding. "I couldn't get your mum's day off work," he said quietly. "I tried to Clara but…"

"It's okay," she whispered. "Really. I'm going home." He looked at her in shock. "I know. I'm taking the day off lectures, getting a train up there Wednesday night and staying with Dad and Bitch-Face won't be there. He requested a parlay and she's going to be with family the entire time so I won't have to see her stupid face once. I can go and visit my mum's grave. Just like I used to, before I came to uni."

The Doctor was smiling warmly and Clara could tell he was relieved. He'd been so devastated about the possibility of letting her down, that to see her be alright was such a relief to him and to her as well. She'd been prepared for the eventuality that the Doctor wouldn't be able to make it and she was glad for another chance to work things out with her father without Bitch-Face present. And it was her mum's day. It only felt right that she spend it with the only person in the world who loved Ellie Oswald the same way that Clara did. For all her father's flaws, she never doubted for a second that he had loved Clara's mother, completely and truly.

The rest of the Day of the Doctor passed fairly smoothly. Clara had been looking forward to the evening, so when it rolled around, she wanted to see what the Doctor had in store. He had bought her a new dress in London, especially for the occasion. It was red, Clara's favourite colour, the deepest blood red and it fitted perfectly. She knew she was being spoilt but didn't care, it was Valentine's and she was madly in love with the Doctor. She dressed quickly and splashed her lips and cheeks to match the dress. She curled her hair and pulled it half up, leaving the rest swishing to her shoulders. She smiled sheepishly as the Doctor stared at her. She always felt so beautiful when he looked at her, because it was a look that told her that she was the only thing in the world that mattered. She wished she could look the way he thought she did and she wished she could make him feel that same way.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Clara said briskly, to shake off the tension and the Doctor's cheeks burned. At this point, Annabelle returned, alone and the Doctor thrust his camera phone into her hand. Annabelle quickly mustered up some fake enthusiasm and Clara clocked immediately that all was not well. She posed for the photo and then swiftly reached Annabelle's side, motioning to the Doctor to give them a minute. "What's wrong?" she asked Annabelle, who waved her off.

"Clara," she said quickly. "Don't worry about me. You look stunning, go out and enjoy your evening, I'll still be here when you get back. Please," she pleaded and Clara shot her a worried look but Annabelle hadn't being crying. She smiled and it was a wistful one but a genuine smile nevertheless. Clara bit her lip. Annabelle nodded and Clara touched her shoulder briefly in reassurance with the promise to talk to her friend later. The Doctor was approaching now and she took his arm. The Day of the Doctor was almost over, but Clara was determined that the rest of the evening would be magical.

It certainly fit the bill. They ate at an incredibly posh restaurant, laughed and joked around all evening, poking fun at each other and everything else. They shared a delightful desert and the Doctor wiped whipped cream on Clara's nose, which almost started a full on food fight before they remembered their surroundings and instead fell into a fit of laughter. Returning home that evening, Clara walked with the Doctor's hand slotted perfectly into hers and she didn't even feel the cold of the night over the warmth of his touch. He occasionally picked her up and spun her in the air whilst she squealed and then he'd set her down and try to kiss her as she punched him for taking her off the ground. They got back around half ten and Clara excused herself so she could check on Annabelle. The Doctor made it clear he was fine with it, pulled her into a long kiss and then pulled out his phone as he wandered into Clara's room. Clara knocked tentatively on Annabelle's door and it flew open as Annabelle hugged her.

"What's wrong?" Clara asked quickly, shutting the door and throwing herself down on Annabelle's bed. Annabelle's face was red and Clara was certain that she'd been crying, which was odd because she'd appeared to not have been too bad earlier. "Is this Tom?" Clara asked sceptically. "Because whatever that shit did, I swear to God I'll beat his brains out."

"No," Annabelle said quickly and Clara shot her a look. "I mean, the date was okay, he was really sweet but I wasn't sure how much we were connecting. I feel I may have overestimated our compatibility. But that's a problem for another day; me and him have plenty of time to work out what we want. My mum," she said quietly. "Tom invited me back to his and I probably would have gone but my dad called, which I thought was strange as my mum usually does all the talking. She's in hospital," Annabelle said and Clara's hand shot to her mouth. "I know right. I've been such a bitch to her for months and now this? I've been such a wretched daughter."

"Annabelle," Clara reassured. "What happened between you and your mum was fault on both sides. From what you told me, it sounded like she deserved all the grief that you gave her. You can't let your guilt about what happened punish you for things that weren't your fault. How is she?"

"She's in intensive care," Annabelle said with a sniff. "Broken pelvis but the people at the hospital reckon she'll make a full recovery given enough physical therapy and time. But I just wish I'd been more appreciative. She's never been a bad mum, we just haven't always seen eye to eye. I'm going to moving back home in a few weeks, when she gets out of hospital, just to help out for a while. It's not far away and I need to be with my family, I hope that's alright?"

"Fine," Clara replied instantly. "After everything you've done for me, it would be selfish to ask you to stay here. You do what you need to do Annabelle. If you want, I could talk to Tom, unless you'd rather tell him yourself?" Annabelle pulled a face at this. Clearly, Tom was not a subject that was near the top of her priority list and Clara didn't blame her one jot for that.

"I'll sort all that rubbish out," Annabelle informed her and Clara touched her arm understandingly. "You've got the Doctor and Valentine's and everything to worry about. I mean it Clara, I've got a couple of weeks before my mum leaves hospital to deal with all the stuff that comes with it, I'm going in to see her tomorrow morning if I can. What about you and the big D?" Clara hated when Annabelle called him that. "You told him then?"

"How did you know?" Clara asked, surprise hitting her as her jaw dropped and Annabelle smiled in a knowing way. "How?" Clara asked again, allowing a laugh and pushing Annabelle backwards on the bed.

"He keeps looking at you," Annabelle replied with a wry smile. "When you aren't looking at him. And he's looking at you with such pure concern and love in his eyes. It's as if he's seeing you in a whole new light, as if he's realising that you're...fragile," Annabelle concluded, her smile gone now and her eyes full of sympathy. "Something's changed in those eyes and I guessed it was because you told him the truth. Obviously I was right."

"Of course you're right," Clara skulked and lay back for a moment, groaning at herself and the whole situation. "He handled it about as well as could be expected I suppose. He's not gone to kill Jessie or anything, so I suppose I should be grateful for that at least…"

Clara had a thought and Annabelle seemingly had the same one at the same moment. They were both on their feet and tumbled out of Annabelle's bedroom. Annabelle was saying something about he couldn't be quiet enough to sneak out without them noticing. Ordinarily, Clara would have agreed with her but the Doctor could be very sneaky when he needed to be. She managed to compose herself as Annabelle straightened out her dress and stayed out of eyeshot in case the Doctor was unclothed inside Clara's bedroom. As she threw open the door, the Doctor was nowhere to be seen. Clara swore loudly and Annabelle rushed in.

"I'll check the bathroom!" Clara gasped, almost falling over herself as she raced across the room. The bathroom was empty and Clara let out a small shriek of anger and frustration. Annabelle swore and Clara tumbled back into the room. Annabelle had a grim look on her face and Clara snatched up the note that had been left in her pillow in the Doctor's neat handwriting and she crumpled it up, choosing a barrage of her favourite swear words.

_Clara, I'm sorry._


	28. Chapter 28: Justice is Served

***The Potter Doctor here. Big chapter this one, so I hope you're emotionally prepared for it. There's so much going on here, but it picks up straight after the last chapter left off so I think you guys get the jist of what's going to happen. As such, there is a violence warning on this chapter. Also, sorry if this chapter feels a bit stop start as there are lots of changes of viewpoint and four different characters get a viewpoint here. Please let me know what you think because I was really nervous about this chapter and as ever, thank you so much to everyone who has been reading, reviewing, following and favouriting. Here we go...***

* * *

Tom's initial reaction when the Doctor had texted him, asking him if they could meet was suspicion. But, nevertheless, he got on well with the Doctor and if it was about Clara, he was more than happy to help. Clara was one of the most important people in Tom's life and he was happy to admit it. He loved having her around, teasing her, toying with her. They had a lot of fun and Tom trusted her with anything. She was basically his best friend when he thought about it. So he agreed. He was nervous but when he met up with the Doctor and the Doctor had told him what the plan was, Tom felt his nerves melt away. The Doctor was angry, beyond angry. And determined. And Tom knew that whatever he did, the Doctor would go along with what he had planned. As for Tom, he could either join the Doctor or let it happen. He couldn't stop it. Tom thought about it. Clara wouldn't want either of them to get involved, wouldn't want either of them out here in this cold, damp night, hunting down her ex-boyfriend. But, Tom didn't care in that moment. He loved Clara to bits, but she wasn't his boss. And he wanted to hurt Jessie. Really hurt Jessie and Tom could tell just from the Doctor's eyes that the Doctor felt the same way.

"Let's do it."

* * *

Panic had taken over Clara immediately. She tried to gain control of her emotions as Annabelle stood in the bedroom beside her, shock and sadness painted across her face. Clara took a deep breath and then another. She needed to calm down, she needed to think. Tom. Tom would know where the Doctor was, what exactly he had planned. He had to, there was nobody else that the Doctor would have called for assistance. Assuming he wanted help, Clara summarised. It was entirely possible that he was already at Jessie's house, smashing his head in.

"Call Tom," Clara instructed and Annabelle nodded frantically. "Meet in the kitchen in ten minutes, be ready to leave. Dress practical and be quick. Whatever the Doctor has gone to do, I'm not going to let him. And don't give me that look." Annabelle flinched. "I know what you're thinking Annabelle, it's the same thing I'm thinking, what Tom's probably thinking if he knows. Jessie deserves it. I'm not going to sit here and tell you that Jessie doesn't deserve whatever justice or vengeance that the Doctor rains down upon him. But he's the Doctor. My Doctor. And I won't let what happens tonight affect his conscience. Tom's either if he's involved. Because he's the better man, he always has been. And I am not going to let him do something that he's going to regret for the rest of his life because of me. Ten minutes, kitchen, go!"

Annabelle nodded and hurried out of the room as Clara urged her on. Clara stripped quickly and showered, possibly the fastest shower of her life. She threw on some jogging bottoms and one of the Doctor's shirts, pulling her hair up into a bun on top of her head as she pulled out her trainers. She saw Annabelle waiting for her in the kitchen, her face grim and she shook her head when Clara got there. Clara's heart sank as Annabelle explained that Tom had ignored her call. Clara swore and quickly dialled the numbers of both the Doctor and Tom, with both of their phones switched off. She and Annabelle exchanged a look and then silently left the apartment.

* * *

The Doctor hadn't said anything much to Tom as they jogged. They were moving quickly because in their hearts, they both knew they were running on a timer. As soon as Clara or Annabelle realised that they were missing, it was only a matter of time until they came after them, probably to try and stop them. Tom was nervous, more so after Annabelle tried to call him and the Doctor told him to switch off his phone in a voice that suggested there was no argument to be had. Tom did as the Doctor commanded and suddenly they were outside Jessie's house. Tom wasn't sure if there was a plan but the Doctor seemed to know what he was doing. He snuck around the back of the house, Tom following. The Doctor had something in his hand and Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Top secret government project," the Doctor informed him in an undertone that clearly indicated that the topic was not up for discussion. Tom rolled his eyes. The Doctor could be so overly dramatic. The Doctor shot him another look, this one a clear indication that the Doctor was neither joking, nor exaggerating. Tom gulped. Somehow, he doubted that anything they were going to do this night would be even close to legal. The Doctor was shimmying up a tree to outside Jessie's window, almost like he'd done it before and Tom had a thought that he decided not to vocalise. He didn't really want to know if the Doctor had climbed that tree to spy on Jessie before, particularly knowing that a good amount of time that Jessie had lived in this house, he had been having sex with Clara. The Doctor opened Jessie's window with ease and motioned for Tom to join him. Tom groaned. He was starting to have a really bad feeling about this.

* * *

When Jessie woke up, he was strapped to a chair. That was his first surprise. He had been asleep, then he'd felt a brief struggle, as though he was being held down. Then he remembered being asleep again. He supposed that he must have been drugged or something, possibly even knocked out. His second surprise, which wasn't that surprising when he'd gotten over the surprise of the first one, was that the Doctor and Clara's annoying friend who'd stopped him the other week were looming over him. He'd been expecting this, almost hoping it would happen. He couldn't believe what he'd done, what he'd allowed to happen. The spiking hadn't been his idea, he wasn't even sure he'd been the one to do it. It had been a stupid joke. But then, he'd found himself there, with Clara and he hadn't been able to hold back. Jessie deserved what was coming. He just hoped the Doctor would be merciful.

"Get on with it then," he said in a beaten voice. "We both know what's going to happen, you and your little friends have been beating me for weeks," he spat at Tom, resentment riding up in him. He hated these two, because they were close to Clara and because they'd stuck their noses in. If it wasn't for the Doctor, he'd have Clara back. None of it excused what he'd done, but he liked to think things would run smoother if these two hadn't intervened. The Doctor's face was one of pure hatred and Jessie had seen it before, just not aimed at him. The Doctor threw the first punch.

* * *

Clara was terrified for Tom and the Doctor. Whatever they had done, it would have to have been pretty fucking stupid. They headed straight to Jessie's house, but Clara suspected that it was pointless. There was no point to it, the Doctor and Tom would have got there before her. She had another thought. How were they going to drag a body around in the middle of the night? She quizzed Annabelle on this and they slipped round the back of the house where they were able to make some realisations. Jessie's window was flung open, the curtains rattling in the wind. The tree had a series of bent branches near the window and there were snapped ones littering the garden. Clara closed her eyes. They'd kidnapped Jessie. They'd actually kidnapped him. She followed the tracks in the damp earth and saw that they'd gone through a large gap in Jessie's back fence and she followed, Annabelle calling after her. Clara paused to wait for Annabelle to catch up to her.

"Look," Clara pointed. "The tracks lead across the fields. These are farmers lands, nobody's going to be out here late at night and they've obviously got something to cover him up. Properly cover him up."

"But what's across these fields?" Annabelle gesticulated wildly, almost shouting but managing to keep her voice in check. "Where are they taking him?"

Clara felt bile rise up inside her. She knew exactly where they were taking him. She grabbed Annabelle's hand and started running, desperate to reach the Doctor before it was too late.

* * *

Each punch felt like a small victory. The chair had long since toppled but Jessie was still tied to it, even though he could easily have worked his way out of the bonds by now. He wasn't trying to escape, though he had started pleading for mercy. Tom and the Doctor alternated, punching various parts of the body. More than anything, the Doctor wanted to say that he took no pleasure in it. But that would be an ugly lie. Every whimper, every drop of blood, every connection sent his pulse racing and a twisted satisfaction plagued him. He sensed it was a similar story for Tom, but by now the other boy was giving up. He threw in the odd kick now and then, but his heart wasn't in it. The Doctor didn't blame him. Tom hadn't grown up taking this kind of punishment on a daily basis. The Doctor had lived a life of pain and it felt good to inflict it on someone for a change. All his punches were delicate, precise. He knew how to maximise pain but minimise actual damage. Jessie would be fine in a few days if the Doctor stopped shortly. If. Right now, that was increasingly looking unlikely. Jessie sobbed and the Doctor rapped his jaw.

"Doctor," Tom said quietly. "You should stop now. This is as bad a beating as we've given him. It's enough."

The Doctor stopped punching to stand and stare down Tom, who wilted under the intimidating stare of the Doctor. "No!" he snapped. "It's not enough. It will never be enough. He hurt Clara, Tom and he would have done far worse to her if not for you. He deserves everything he gets. He deserves nothing. He deserves to die. This is justice Tom and if you can't handle that, I suggest you leave."

Tom put his arm out to stop the Doctor returning to Jessie but the Doctor walked through it. Tom tried to step between the Doctor and his prey and the Doctor's eyes narrowed.

"Is that wise Tom?" he asked quietly and he could see Tom's face visibly crumble. The Doctor could be very scary when he wanted to be. "Get out of the way Tom. I won't ask again. I don't want to hurt you, but I can easily incapacitate you fairly painlessly in order to get to Jessie. Note, I said fairly painlessly."

Tom stepped aside, but looked away and the Doctor watched him wince as the Doctor kicked Jessie. Tom wasn't cut out for this, but he couldn't leave. He wouldn't leave the Doctor alone because he didn't know what the Doctor was capable of. The Doctor at this moment wasn't sure what the Doctor was capable of. He straddled Jessie, who spat blood at him. The Doctor cracked his forehead against Jessie's skull and the noise elicited a shocked sound from Tom as Jessie groaned. The Doctor heard Tom ask him to stop but he didn't, punching multiple times as his hands closed around Jessie's throat. He wanted to squeeze so much. He wanted to kill Jessie more than anything. He had showed restraint when it came to the Master because he'd needed to in order to save Clara's life. He'd had to call the police because he had no other option. But Clara wasn't in the picture. She didn't need to be saved. Nobody needed the Doctor to hold back. Tom was shouting now, but the Doctor squeezed, feeling an immense pleasure rise up in him and he was sickened by himself. He didn't know if he could stop.

"Doctor!" the shouts filled the room, all blending together as the Doctor focused all his energies on ending the increasingly frantic Jessie's life. "Doctor stop it now! STOP!" The Doctor didn't want to stop.

Then, a hand closed on his shoulder, wrenching him off Jessie. The Doctor roared in anger and swirled to punch, his fist connecting with Tom's face, sending him staggering back and allowing the Doctor to resume his assault on Jessie. The gasps that had filled the room clued him in, as did the slight visual perception of who he had hit. But even before he'd placed his hands back on Jessie, he'd made the realisation himself. Tom was taller than that. He shouldn't have been able to connect with his face from there. It hadn't been Tom. The Doctor was on his feet, turning to look at Clara, whose nose was gushing blood, a look of pure shock on her face. But it was worse than shock, the Doctor realised and as he opened his mouth to speak, he realised that he had made Clara feel the one thing that he had wanted never to make her feel. He had had many sleepless nights over the idea of that emotion in Clara's eyes. He had made her afraid of him. She shrank back, as if scared he'd hit her again and he stepped forward, words unable to form. Tom was behind Clara, wrapping his arms around her as he too looked at the Doctor in pure shock.

"Clara," the Doctor managed before Annabelle stepped into his line of vision and slapped him so hard that his entire world span. They must've followed the tracks. Of course they knew where he'd be. It was the same warehouse where the Master had held Clara.

"Stay the fuck away from her," Annabelle spat, her words poison. Clara was behind her and the Doctor wanted to try and reassure her, but he was rooted to the spot as Tom guided Clara away. The Doctor stuttered, unable to find the words. Clara had stepped away from Tom for a moment and she was looking back at the Doctor for a moment. Their eyes met and Clara looked sad. So impossibly sad. And then she was being dragged away and Annabelle was stood there, her eyes fixed on the Doctor, full of fury.

"If you even think about coming to the apartment, I will put you in hospital," she warned and the Doctor nodded. He knew Annabelle was right. "Now clean up this fucking mess. I'm half tempted to call the police myself. But I won't," she added. "Because Clara loves you and God help us all I bet she still believes in you. But she shouldn't. And if I have anything at all to say about it, Doctor," she said the word like it was cursed. "She'll never see you again. Ever."

And then she left, leaving the Doctor alone. Annabelle was angry, he got that. But she also had a point. Clara hadn't said it, Clara hadn't said anything. Clara would come crawling back. She didn't understand, she never could. After all the horrible things he'd done, Clara Oswald stood by him and always would. And he couldn't let her. If Clara came back to him, if Clara forgave him, he would destroy her. He heard Jessie groan and went over to him. He untied him and pulled him to his feet.

"Leave Clara alone," he said in a fierce voice. "You leave this university, you leave Clara and you never come back. You tell nobody about what happened here tonight and I won't tell anyone that you tried to rape her. If you lie, I'll have plenty of witnesses to back me up and this whole thing will at best get messy. So I'm giving you a chance to get ahead of the storm. Go."

Jessie nodded, terrified and limped out of the warehouse, leaving the Doctor alone with his thoughts. Clara. His Clara. He could have killed her in his rage, he realised. One decent punch, if she fell back, hit her head. He was thinking worst case of course, but if Tom and Annabelle hadn't been there, would he have even realised? He felt sick. He hated himself, so much more than Clara would ever hate him. He needed to care for her, help her. Clara thought she was damaged. And maybe that was true, but he was not the man to fix her. He was too dangerous. She might be fragile, but he was a monster, a killer. She might forget that sometimes, brush it under the carpet but there was no doubt in the Doctor's mind that he would have killed Jessie unless Clara had stopped him. His Clara. She deserved better. The Doctor needed to go somewhere that she would never be able to be hurt by him ever again.

The first few steps were the hardest. But once he was walking, he knew it was the best thing for everyone. For Clara. She had Tom and Annabelle, they'd take care of her, whatever happened. The Doctor picked up his phone and thumbed her a text. Three simple words, enough to break his heart as he knew he'd never be able to say them to her again. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he dropped the phone. He didn't suppose he'd need it anymore. The Doctor moved like a ghost, his speed picking up. He knew the perfect spot.

As he reached the bridge, he gazed down, into the abyss. It was a twenty foot drop, into a crushing river. The rain of the previous months had made it a torrent of pulsating water, running down and down. If he jumped in, that was it. He would be pulled under, probably instantly. Assuming he didn't break his neck in the fall, he'd drown or be ripped apart by rocks. A ragged and painful death for a man who deserved nothing more. Justice is served, he thought graciously. He clambered up the bridge wall and stared into nothing. This was it. His final act. The Doctor took the final step.


	29. Chapter 29: The Soul of the Doctor

"What the fucking hell are you doing?"

The scream, the desperation in it and the forcefulness of the cry stopped the Doctor dead in his tracks, his left boot hovering over oblivion. He retracted it and turned slowly, careful not to slip. It would be just typical of him to lose his footing now. Clara was stood there, in the middle of the bridge. Her brown hair was all over her face, slipping rapidly down from its bun. Her face was streaked with her own blood and tears but it was strained into a position of abject horror. Her eyes were swirling with emotion, as if she was unable to believe what she was seeing. The Doctor knew he couldn't do it. It had been hard enough to leave her, knowing he'd never see her again, but he couldn't make her watch. He didn't have it in him.

"What," Clara gasped, tears choking her. "The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing?" Each word came out as a rasped sob, a plead, her face looking more broken, more distraught than the Doctor had ever seen her. It was as if her entire world had collapsed in front of her. The Doctor suddenly realised how she must have looked after her mother died. He wanted to throw up he was so disgusted in himself. He stepped down, jumped down but onto the bridge, where it was safe. He said nothing, he just stood there and Clara took less than a second to reach him, almost knocking off his feet with the force of her sobbing hug.

"Never," she sobbed. "Ever. Do. That. To. Me. Again." Each word was punctuated by a sob and a half-hearted punch to the Doctor's chest. "I thought I was going to lose you," she cried and the Doctor still didn't react. How could he? She needed to hate him, it was the only way. "I got your text and I knew, instantly. I don't even know how I knew, but I did. And I raced here, Annabelle and Tom had no idea what I was playing at but they couldn't keep up. Doctor, please. Promise me. Promise me right now, right this second, that you will never do this to me again."

He couldn't. If he promised her, then she'd forgive him and they could move on. And if they moved past this, then he would kill her. He would end up, somehow, some way, being the death of her. And killing the person he loved most in the entire world would do far worse things to the Doctor than anything that had ever happened to him in the past. He shuddered at the thought of who that man would become.

"I promise." Well where the fuck had that come from? "Clara," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "My Clara. I am so…"

"Don't," she implored him, still stood in his arms. "Don't you dare. Doctor, don't you dare tell me that you are sorry, because I swear to God if you do, I will throw you off this bridge myself." He laughed at that. "You don't have to say anything," she said quietly and he felt an overwhelming urge to explain himself. "I get it," Clara whispered and he stopped. "I really get it. You were going to kill him." The words punctured the Doctor's soul. "And he would have deserved it," Clara added darkly. "But I couldn't let him do that to you. Not you, not my Doctor. You are not a killer." The words sounded hollow but Clara managed to bring life to them. "If you'd killed Jessie, you would have been. But you didn't."

"Only because of you," the Doctor said quietly.

"Exactly," Clara smiled and he found himself more confused than ever but smiling with her. "That's what I'm here for. I love you Doctor and I'm never going to let you go off the rails. If anyone can keep the monster in you at bay, then it's Clara 'Soufflé Girl' Oswald. And I will always be here. We've all got darkness in our hearts. Never think for a second that I can't handle yours. Because that's what this is, isn't it?" She stood back from him and gestured around. "You think I can't handle your black soul, so you're going to save me from you?" The Doctor nodded without speaking. "Well I can, so forget it. I love you Doctor, more than anything. So don't you dare…" The tears had returned now. "Don't you dare leave me."

And he promised that he wouldn't. They sat there that night, talking for what seemed like forever. They were slumped by the side of a bridge as midnight came and went, became two, which became four. At around 6am, the Doctor pulled an exhausted Clara to her feet. She let herself fall asleep in his arms and he carried her home, to bed. If Annabelle was awake, she didn't show any signs and the Doctor put Clara to bed and despite his best intuitions, he climbed in beside her. She wrapped her arms around him and he smiled as he lay there. She was right. He was a monster at heart and she was the only one who had ever brought out the goodness in him. Without her, he was nothing. Clara Oswald. The woman who saved the Doctor. His Impossible Girl. The Doctor fell asleep beside her, all thoughts of a world without him in it fading to dust.

* * *

The shouting match woke them about noon. It was between Tom and Annabelle and it didn't take a genius to work out what they were rowing about. Clara cuddled closer to the Doctor, trying to block out the noise. He rolled his eyes and kissed her forehead. Annabelle was screaming about how irresponsible Tom had been and how he should never have taken the Doctor out with him in the first place. Tom was shouting back how Annabelle herself would have loved a pop at Jessie and how he'd had no idea how badly wrong it would go or how far things would escalate. He then proceeded to tell her if she hadn't told the Doctor to never speak to Clara again then maybe he wouldn't have disappeared. At this point, Clara let out a very audible groan and both of them stopped dead. Clara swore under her breath and the hammering came on the bedroom door.

"Clara Oswald?" Annabelle practically shrieked, delirious. "Are you in that fucking bedroom?"

"No," Clara replied, wincing.

"Is the Doctor in there with you?" Annabelle's tone was borderline murderous.

"No," the Doctor replied, earning a giggle from Clara as Tom swore loudly and someone, probably Annabelle, kicked the door.

"You complete pair of arseholes!" Annabelle yelled. "We've been worried sick about you Clara! And you too, Doctor," she added almost begrudgingly and the Doctor shot Clara a grin. "Look we know we were hard on you last night." Tom coughed. "I was very harsh on you last night. But we care about both of you a lot and we want to see you both happy. We both understand what went down, and it would be better if none of us ever spoke of it again."

Clara sighed and skirted over to the door, dragging her onesie on as she threw it open and let Annabelle hug her. Tom was two steps behind and had next pick, so hugged her tightly, Clara's heart not really in it. They both shot the Doctor looks and waves and she could sense they were tentative around him. She shrugged them off in the end and went back to bed. She felt bad for leaving them, but she needed to be with the Doctor. They discussed everything and anything the previous night but there still much work for them to do. They were both highly volatile and emotional and prone to error. They spent the rest of the day lying in bed. They talked until Clara didn't think there was anything more to say. The Doctor's fist was clenched when he told her that he had a train to catch.

"Stay," she implored him. "Take a few sick days, you damn well need them."

"Clara," he said quietly, a smile creeping onto his face. "My Clara. I can't. I want to, more than anything, I want to. But I can't. We're only just on schedule, if I leave them now, they'll fall behind. And don't look at me like that because it makes me want to stay. I don't care about falling behind, of course I don't. But every day we're behind schedule is another day I have to stay in London, which means another day away from my Impossible Girl. And I can't do that to myself or you. I'll be back next weekend, I promise."

Her grip on his arm had turned vice-like and the Doctor kissed her hand gently as she released him. He kissed her forehead and she clung to him like her life depended on it. He promised to call her when he got home and he promised not to do anything stupid while he was gone. Clara wanted to go with him more than anything, but she had work to do, an essay she'd been putting off, not to mention Annabelle and Tom would be full of questions and anger. She had to face the consequences, as did the Doctor. His heart was darker than she had realised. But it changed nothing, didn't it? Clara wanted to convince herself that she could never fear the Doctor, but the moment when he'd punched her, he'd been pure fury and she'd been terrified. She'd been terrified of him and the memory of that memory shot through her like a bullet. Clara shivered at the thought of it. She loved the Doctor and she wouldn't let his darkness consume him.

"He has a sliver of ice in his heart," Annabelle said from behind her and Clara jumped out of her skin. "Sorry," Annabelle apologised. "But the Doctor, don't tell me you still trust him? He's dangerous Clara, he's a tortured soul."

"I know more about the Doctor and his soul than anyone," Clara snapped, not sure if she was pissed off with Annabelle or herself for agreeing with her. "I know things, things that he could only tell me. So yes, I trust him, because he would do anything for me and that's why he did what he did. Out of anger, out of vengeance for what happened to me. The Doctor is troubled, the Doctor is many things, but he isn't dangerous. He would never hurt me."

Even as she said the words, her nose flared in pain and Clara shrank back, unable to stand by that conviction. Annabelle's incredulous snort told Clara exactly what her friend thought about that. Annabelle knew how much Clara loved the Doctor and that was what Clara sensed worried her most of all. The fact that Clara was vulnerable to him, the fact that the Doctor had such a hold on her. But Clara also knew that the Doctor was one of the kindest people she'd ever come across and the most loving. He could be many things, but never cruel. He would anything for Clara, but thinking that now made Clara's stomach turn rather than swell up in pride. He would murder for Clara. He would kill himself for Clara. He would hurt anyone who stood in Clara's way. His anger and his darkness would poison him, all because of her. Clara slapped herself mentally. It was exactly this kind of self-loathing and blame placing that had got the Doctor to stand on a bridge, ready to jump off, something she was never planning on telling Annabelle or Tom.

"Clara, I'm your friend and I care about you," Annabelle was saying. "Just ask yourself, is the Doctor worth it? Is he really worth all the pain and destruction that follow in his wake? You were nearly burned alive because you were his girlfriend and now this."

"Yes," Clara replied in a heartbeat and Annabelle raised an eyebrow. "Yes he's worth it," Clara reiterated and this she felt secure in. That much at least. He was the best man she'd ever known and that was what scared her the most. The fact that this world could turn the best of people and make them into the worst, torture them to the point where the goodness was just a shadow. But the Doctor wasn't fighting the world alone. He had her to protect him. And Clara was not going to let the world rip apart the best of men. It would have to kill her first. And the Doctor was never going to let that happen. "He's worth it."

Annabelle didn't challenge her anymore, but Clara knew she felt uneasy about the whole situation. She didn't blame Annabelle for feeling uneasy; it was that very same unease that plagued Clara herself. She and the Doctor had both made promises she wasn't sure that they could keep. It was so easy, in the heat of the moment, to promise things that you truly believe in your heart that you can achieve. But could she? Would she always be there when the Doctor needed someone to hold him back? And would he always be there for her? Clara tried to dismiss such thoughts. They were a couple, and every couple had to take the same gambles. Everybody had to put faith in their partner and in themselves that they never thought it possible to do. Theirs was no different. They were just different themselves. Clara smiled. She loved the Doctor. And that would have to be enough.

* * *

The train ride home was long and arduous but it gave the Doctor plenty of time to think. Think about what was truly in his heart, in his soul. He wanted more than anything to be the best he could be, for Clara's sake. But whenever she became mixed up in his life, things ended up badly for her. But the Doctor had to dismiss such renegade thoughts. Clara had had it hard enough before he turned up. Her mum, Jessie, these things weren't his fault. He would be there for her, whatever it took. The Doctor thought back to those first few months, how it had all began. Breakfast and philosophy lectures, the occasional film and pizza session. The Doctor and Clara Oswald. In so many ways, they had changed but then, in many ways, nothing had changed at all. Except they knew the other better. And that could be a very good thing or a very dangerous thing. The Doctor took a deep breath. The Master was gone, Jessie was gone, and River Song was out of the picture. Nothing else could come between him and Clara. They would be okay. He loved her and she made him feel better about himself. If anyone could truly find their way through his defences, to enlighten the Doctor's soul, it was Clara Oswald. And he loved her for it. That would have to be enough.

* * *

_Where was he going? The Doctor looked at his map again but for the life of him, he could not put two and two together and determine which way he was supposed to be going. He glanced away from the map briefly and felt someone or something crash into him. The Doctor flailed and he felt himself fall forwards as the thing that had crashed into him grabbed his jacket, dragging him to the floor. He collided with the thing, landing awkwardly on top of it. The Doctor rolled off and clambered to his feet, apology at the ready. He spotted who he had collided with. She was beautiful. She was very short, with chocolate brown hair that glistened and eyes the deepest brown. She was wearing a leather jacket over a red skirt and her makeup was perfect. But it was her smile. The way her soft lips puckered that grabbed him instantly, and he found himself unable to think of what to say._

_"Oh my God, are you alright?" he decided up frantically. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, lost in my head. I seem to do that a lot," he added, talking more to himself than the beautiful girl. Clara, he realised. Her name was Clara, she was wearing a name tag. English student or prospective English student, he corrected himself. They started talking as she asked for directions and the Doctor guided her towards her department. She seemed reluctant to talk about herself much, he gathered but she was starting in September, same as him. She seemed to wince when she mentioned her parents, which caught the Doctor off-guard. He missed his parents every day, so to see someone who didn't like them always confused him. He squeezed her arm, wanting nothing more than to see her smile again and she obliged him. Then it was time to say goodbye and the Doctor felt sad, knowing he might never see the wonderful Clara again. She seemed surprised when he said her name out loud and realised that not everyone was as perceptive as him. He told her his name. Well not his real name of course. But the Doctor. The man who healed people. The Doctor had always considered that an ironic nickname but he had kept it to remind himself what he had done and why he had to be better. He waved and then Clara was gone…_

* * *

_Philosophy, the Doctor had decided, was cool. But one thing he had not expected was to see the pretty girl he remembered as Clara, sat in his philosophy lecture. He slipped in alongside her. He was reaching into his bag for a pen and, of course, he'd forgotten one. He bit his lip and asked Clara for a pen. She seemed to jump at his appearance, but she obliged him. She asked him his real name and he deliberately ignored the question. John Smith was dead, there was only the Doctor. He let slip about his therapist but had lied in doing so. He couldn't believe that, he'd managed to be so honest and yet lie in the same sentence, both by intuition alone. The Doctor was pleased enough to be seeing Clara again, so when it turned out they would be living just across the hall from each other, it was his privilege. The Doctor had decided that out of all the humans he'd met, Clara was one of the best ones. She was worth spending time with. And, coming from him, that was quite a compliment indeed. _

_As time went on, the Doctor learned the truth about Clara. She had lost her mum and she pushed the world away. She pushed him away at first, but something broke inside her and she came knocking on his door. It pained the Doctor greatly to see a girl so wonderful be so hurt by the world and he decided, right then, that night, the night she told him she wanted to be his friend, the night he learned the truth about her mother, that whatever it took, however long he had to stick at it, he would make Clara Oswald happy. He would undo the damage that the world had done to her. Part of it was her, of course it was. But there was something else. The Doctor had to earn his name. It would no longer be a curse, no longer a reminder of the mistakes he'd made. If he could earn that name, maybe, just maybe, he could be a person. And so the Doctor resolved, he would earn the title: 'The Doctor' and he would fix Clara Oswald._

* * *

***Hi there guys. Some chapters just need to get straight into it you know? So an ending AN for a change. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and everything we learn in it. I wanted both to call back to the first meetings between the Doctor and Clara from a different viewpoint but also to really explore the character of the Doctor here. I didn't want to kill him, not even for a second, because it doesn't fit with the grand plan, but I wanted him to be pushed beyond his limits because in truth, the actions of the last chapter left me in no doubt that that was his natural reaction. I also wanted to turn both Tom and Annabelle against the Doctor a bit. Thanks for reading, and please please review! Thanks to all those who have been reading, reviewing, following and favouriting. Not long to go now, probably less than 10 chapters to go. TPD***


	30. Chapter 30: Breakups and First Dates

***Hello all! First off, bloody hell, I've hit the 30 chapter mark, how exciting! Secondly, 175 reviews, you guys rule! I hate to be one of those people but I'm only 5 off 100 followers and how cool would that be? So, getting this out of the way early, thank you so so much to everyone who has reviewed, followed, favourited or even just contributed to my reads counter! Please keep reviewing, it means the world to hear your feedback. Thirdly, I have dropped the ball. Now that I'm back at uni, I've been hit by work and I am running out of leeway. I've only written 33 chapters, so that buffer is rapidly shrinking, I intend to add another one tonight and then get this damn story finished over the weekend. Once I know, I'll let you know how many chapters it'll end up being but 37 is my best estimate. Fourthly, this chapter. This is another Doctor-lite (or rather Doctor-free chapter) but to make up for it, I have plenty of other stuff. We have a ton of Annabelle and Tom to mop up in this chapter, Ten makes a reappearance and there is a delightful cameo that I really hope you guys love as much as did writing it. So, I'll leave you to it, The Potter Doctor out!***

* * *

They were fighting again. Annabelle was sick of it. Ever since the Doctor had tried to kill Jessie, Tom had been in a foul mood and he was either yelling at Clara or trying to be nice to Annabelle and failing miserably. She knew where Tom was coming from and she didn't blame him. Tom was angry at the Doctor and scared. He was more angry at himself, Annabelle knew that and he had been projecting that anger onto both her and Clara. Tom was playing the over protective big brother role, desperate to protect Clara from the Doctor. Annabelle could step in, but that would involve leaving the comfort of her bed and that would be a waste of warmth. She could hear Clara announcing that she was going out and Tom yelling back that he was only telling her things she didn't want to admit to herself. It was probably the truth but that didn't change the fact that Tom needed to get his head out of his arse. As the front door slammed, Annabelle knew what was coming next. She shifted a few centimetres to make room as her bedroom door crashed open and Tom flew into the room and plonked himself next to her, letting off a long and excruciating list of expletives as he did so. Annabelle rolled her eyes at this and shot him a look when he kissed her on the cheek.

"No wonder Chloe has such a foul mouth," Annabelle remarked and Tom's eyes narrowed. "It turns out her big brother is such a good role model. And I see you and Clara finally buried the hatchet?" Her voice was dripping sarcasm and Tom seemed more agitated by this.

"I'm worried about her!" Tom snapped, annoyed that he was being called out on it. "Aren't you? The Doctor nearly killed someone and for all we know, he could take it out on her. You didn't see him Annabelle, he was savage. He was dangerous."

"Tom," Annabelle's voice was soft now and he flinched at her touch. "I care about Clara too you know. I worry about her all the time and I know exactly where you're coming from. But you two have been rowing constantly now since he left. It's almost been two weeks and it's getting silly. There's only so long you too can keep screaming at Clara until you realise that it's only causing you two problems. And if something happens, you'll feel even guiltier thinking that you pushed her away. We'll both just keep an eye on her and the Doctor. Clara loves him. Clara trusts him."

"Just because we love people, just because we trust people," Tom spat. "Doesn't mean anything. Somebody loved Hitler. So many people out there are murdered by the ones they love, the ones they trust. The world is full of liars and psychos and nobody can trust anyone, let alone someone like the Doctor."

"You're thinking about Lizzie again." It was a statement, not a question. Annabelle felt her stomach turn. Tom was looking at her apologetically, but they both knew that nothing he could say would change the fact of the matter. Every time Annabelle and Tom tried to get intimate, things felt wrong. They would blame it on the circumstance, on the booze, on Clara's messy life. But the truth was, they weren't compatible as a couple. The longer that they denied it, the worse it was. Annabelle's crush was waning.

"Sorry," Tom said and Annabelle kissed him. There was no spark. It didn't feel magic, it just felt ordinary. They were locking lips, nothing more. When the Doctor and Clara kissed, it was as if they were sharing a piece of themselves with the other, Annabelle could see that. But with Tom, it just felt like they were sharing saliva. Tom couldn't even bring himself to smile afterwards. "Annabelle, listen…"

"We're better off as friends," Annabelle interrupted. "You know it and I know it. Let's stop fucking around the bush with this and just be adult about it. We've both been there for the other recently and we have a good thing going on. But whenever we try to push beyond that, it falls apart. Let's be amicable, let's not be immature. Not every relationship has to end on bad terms. If you can call this a relationship, really we've only had sex a handful of times."

"Wow," Tom was smiling now, and Annabelle was a little disappointed he was more cheerful about their breaking up than their kissing but she supposed she felt a similar way and that was why they needed to break up in the first place. "Christ, I was really worried you were going to cry. Most girls would, I mean look at me, I'm gorgeous."

"You're full of shit," Annabelle clarified and he laughed at that. "Text Clara, go and find her and apologise. We both know she hates the fact that you two keep fighting as much as you do. We both just have to be her friend right now, because she's determined to stay with the Doctor. There isn't a force on planet Earth that can stop a fully determined Clara Oswald and we'd be foolish to try. Besides, she knows the Doctor better than we do, she might just be right about him."

"I don't doubt Clara," Tom said quietly and Annabelle nodded. "I don't even doubt the Doctor that much. I see his anger and pain and I understand it. But I'm scared for her. I don't want to take the risk. I'd never forgive myself if anything did happen, as unlikely as it might be. If the warning signs were there and we missed them…My instinct says the Doctor will take care of her, but I've been wrong before and if it was Chloe…"

"Tom," Annabelle sighed and she reckoned Tom knew exactly what she was about to say, but she said it anyway. "Clara's not Chloe. She's not some teenager that needs protecting from the world. I could happily argue with you about being an overprotective brother but at the end of the day, that's part of the job of a brother. Clara's your best friend. So stop being a jerk, suck it up and if you need to, I'll plan the Doctor's murder with you as a contingency plan."

Tom smiled at this and Annabelle gave him a quick hug as he jumped to his feet, pulled out his phone and quickly thumbed in Clara's number. She heard him shout her name and then the front door to the apartment slammed again and Annabelle was left in peace. She glanced at her clock. If she hurried, she could go and visit her mother before visiting hours finished. Annabelle felt a pang. Tomorrow was the day that her mother left hospital and the day Annabelle moved home. She was anxious and she didn't mind admitting it. It had been easy at the time, committing to spending more time with her ailing mother. But their relationship was patchy and plenty of time in a confined space wouldn't necessarily solve that. And then there was Clara. She was acting like she was happy, as if she was in a good place and maybe she was. But with everything that was going on, Annabelle would sleep a lot better at night if she was here, looking after her. Tom was still on campus, which whilst not far to walk, wasn't exactly the next room. And it would mean she was alone with the Doctor for long periods of time. Annabelle sighed. If Clara trusted the Doctor, Annabelle trusted the Doctor. She just hoped that she wouldn't be standing over Clara's grave, regretting this decision.

* * *

Tom had made the effort to apologise, which Clara really appreciated. Clara had hated the fact that they were fighting, pretty much constantly since the Jessie incident, which Clara was trying to avoid thinking about. Whenever Tom or Annabelle badgered her about it, the former more than the latter, Clara felt ill and struggled to control her emotions. She knew that Tom was only looking out for her, but that made it so much worse and harder to understand. If he really understood her and cared about her, he would have appreciated sooner that the Doctor was safe and could be trusted. Clara had often found herself questioning both of those things, but she knew that the only way that the Doctor could be a trustworthy and safe person was if she gave him the chance. If Clara threw him to the wolves, he could easily become one of them and that wasn't something that she was willing to let happen.

Ever since Annabelle had gone home to spend time with her mum, the apartment had felt empty. Clara hadn't been this alone since the Doctor had abandoned her to spend four days shagging River Song. But this was a different kind of alone. Last time, Clara had felt abandoned, without hope. This time, she knew the Doctor would be back every weekend and Tom popped round whenever he could, occasionally staying in Annabelle's old room. Annabelle herself was never far away, but she was always busy in the evenings, although Clara heard all her stories in lectures during the day. Her dad phoned every other evening, always badgering her about the wedding. The following day, Clara would be heading home for March 5th. She wasn't dreading it, but she could never look forward to that day. At least she didn't have to deal with Bitch-Face, she reminded herself. The wedding was apparently progressing nicely, Clara would have to do a dress fitting while she was home but her dad promised to give Clara power to veto any dresses she hated. Clara was grateful for that.

The fact that Clara's apartment was so empty meant that the knock on the door was a surprise. Tom had already texted her saying that he was swamped that night so wouldn't be popping round, and Annabelle had not ten minutes previous been bitching about her little brother so Clara doubted it was her either. She crossed the room to the door tentatively and looked through the eyehole before opening the door in surprise.

"Ten?" she asked, shocked. "What are you doing here? The Doctor's in London!"

"I know!" Ten said breathlessly, as if he'd been running. He probably had, the rain was terrible, Clara realised. Ten's beige overcoat was soaked and his usually wild hair was flattened by rain and wind. He was wearing that brown pinstriped suit again and Clara invited him in as he was shivering and her apartment was brilliantly warm. "I came to see you," he explained and she showed him to the sofa.

"What about?" Clara asked, hovering for a moment. "Can I get you some tea? You look like you could use it." He nodded quickly, rubbing his arms. "How have you been?" Clara added quickly, when it looked like he was hesitant to answer her first question.

"I've been better than when you last saw me," Ten admitted and Clara felt guilty. She knew the Doctor had been in contact with his cousin but she hadn't spoken to Ten since London. It had been a good couple of months. Clara wondered what the Doctor had said to Ten about the whole Jessie mess. Hopefully nothing. "I've stopped moping I suppose. Rose is gone and to be frank, I want to move on from her. I met a lovely girl. Her name's Martha. Martha Jones." For half a second, Clara's memory had flared up but the surname didn't seem to fit. "She's a med student." Definitely not the same Martha that had lived with Jessie and slept with him then. Thank God. "She asked me out! And I…well…"

"David?" Clara was smirking now. "Did you come here to ask me for advice regarding a certain medical student?" Ten opened and closed his mouth and then nodded, trying to look a certain kind of ashamed. Clara smiled warmly at him and handed him his tea, sitting opposite him. "Relax Ten, I'm not going to tell anyone if you don't want me to. Especially not the King of Sensitivity." Ten snorted with laughter at that. "So what do you need help with?"

"Everything!" Ten spluttered. "I've known Rose for so long, we'd been together for years, so I never really did the whole, first date thing. She's so good at everything medical and stupidly cool and I'm useless at this. Clara, you've managed to put my cousin, the worst candidate for a boyfriend there ever may be, on your leash. Help me. Please. What do I wear? What do I say? How do I act? Do I bring flowers? I'm guessing it's a bad idea to bring up exes but beyond that are there any off-limits topics?"

Clara took a deep breath. "I don't know why you expect me to be so good at this," she replied with more than a hint of a smile. Ten went pale at this but she waved it off. "Just wear what you'd normally wear, it's a good mix of formal and informal, you can't go wrong. Maybe opt for the blue; it looks better than the brown pinstripes. Flowers for a first date are a real signal of intent so only go for it if you're willing to send that kind of message. Don't Relieve yourself beforehand, be yourself but don't be yourself and for God's sake whatever you do, don't be THAT guy. You'll be fine Ten. As for comments about exes, dear God don't mention Rose."

"Yeah, I'd worked that much out," Ten replied wryly. "If she wants to talk medical, I can do that. I love a good human brain, they're such interesting creations…"

"Ten, if you're about to tell me that either you or my boyfriend have ever kept human brains in their rooms, I will personally kill both of you. Not a word!" she added with a laugh, pressing her finger against Ten's mouth as he went to say something. "Okay, I'm sure it'll all work out. When is this date?"

"Two hours," Ten explained. "Which was why I was so anxious to get here quickly…"

"Two hours?" Clara hung her head. "For fuck's sake Ten, get home and get yourself showered and change. You have a date to prepare for. And let me know how it goes. We should talk more often," she mused and Ten smiled at that. "I mean, I've not seen you since Christmas and you're important to the Doctor, so we should get to know each other better."

"I'd like that Clara," Ten replied. "I heard Jessie dropped out of the university as well. I wasn't sure if you'd be upset by that or not, but I guess you probably already new." She had. "Right, I'd best be off. Martha Jones awaits! Allonsy and all that jazz!"

Clara chuckled to herself as Ten finished his tea and left her in peace. She liked Ten, he reminded her a lot of the Doctor and that was no bad thing. Clara had just settled down when the door knocked again and Clara groaned. She was getting really tired of people wanting her to be sociable. She had a group project to work on. She stumbled over to the door, cursing Ten as she did so. She threw it open, glaring as she cried: "What is it now David Smith?"

But it wasn't David on the doorstep and Clara felt guilty instantly as the girl jumped. The girl was taller than Clara, wearing a red and black plaid shirt and jeans. She looked slightly nervous, her green eyes shimmering and she was trying to look past Clara into the apartment.

"Sorry," Clara apologised quickly. "My friend David was just here, you might have seen him on the way up. Crazy hair, pinstripe suit, skinny as a twig?" The girl nodded, raising an eyebrow. "How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Annabelle?" the girl asked, and Clara picked up an accent that she couldn't quite pinpoint. "She's my mentor for English, I'm her fresher. She told me that she lived here and that I could stop by any time I needed help. I would have called first but I lost her number and if I'm honest, I'm pretty desperate. Is she in?"

"Annabelle moved out," Clara replied, trying not to let her sadness creep into her voice. The girl's face fell, her red hair obscuring her face momentarily as she swept it back. "Sort of. I'm really sorry. But," Clara added quickly as the girl pulled a face. "Well the thing is, she'll be back at some point. I dunno when, a few weeks. In the meantime, I can help you?" Clara didn't know why she was offering her help but she felt bad for the girl and in truth she was bored and alone. "My name's Clara, I'm a second year English student, like Annabelle. Is this to do with an essay or something?"

"Yes," the girl nodded and Clara showed her inside. "I mean, it's a real bitch of an essay and it's due on Thursday and I've gotten nowhere with it. I'd really appreciate a hand, if you could offer me one?"

"I don't mind," Clara was boiling the kettle and the girl refused her offer of tea, instead opting for coffee. Clara wasn't big on coffee but she had it occasionally and Annabelle loved the stuff so there was loads of it left over. "Your accent, it's been bugging me, where exactly are you from?"

"Oh I'm from a small town not too far from London," the girl chuckled as if it was a running joke. "But that's not where my accent is from. I've always had it, never been able to shake it. My parents are Scottish you see, I grew up in Scotland until I was 8 or 9. It was fun, England was pretty rubbish," the girl accepted her coffee and pulled out her laptop as if to show Clara what it was that she was working on. "My name's Amy. Amy Pond."


	31. Chapter 31: The Past and The Future

***Hello everyone! So, we're hitting the back end of the story and I hope you're all still enjoying it! Lots to deal with in this chapter, including some news from both Ten and Amy, plus there a couple more characters whose stories I wanted to tie up in a neat little bow. This is the run for the finish now so everything's just falling into place but there's also plenty of Whouffle to keep you guys ticking over :) As ever thank you for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting and please keep going, I really want to know what you guys make of this crucial chapter. Thanks a bunch, The Potter Doctor***

* * *

On most days, the Doctor had to wait ten seconds before Clara opened the door and threw herself into his arms. On this particular Saturday, he had to wait five. Clara Oswald crashed through the door, jumping up and he caught her as she wrapped her lips around his, breathing deeply as they connected. After a moment, she broke the kiss and he set her down. Clara smoothed down her hair and smiled shyly, dragging him inside, the Doctor hauling his weekend bag after him. The kettle had already boiled and the Doctor admired Clara's preparedness as she handed him a cup of tea. She really had missed him then. He'd heard the rumours from Ten, but they didn't quite do justice…

"I missed you too," the Doctor smiled and Clara shot him a snarky look before bursting into a big cheesy grin. "I heard from Ten, turns out you were helping him out on the dating front this week?"

"Yeah, he came bludgeoning in here asking for advice for his date with a med student. Martha I think her name was. We went for a drink the following night, he seemed to think it went well. They're meeting up again tonight, so it couldn't have gone too drastically wrong, don't you think?" The Doctor nodded. He wondered how he would broach the subject to Clara. "Also, I can't wait for Easter. Three weeks, you and me. I'll be down in London as much as I can but no promises. I have essays and Dad knows that I'm free so I'll be getting all kinds of wedding crap. I finish right before your birthday, so even if you have to work, we can celebrate in the evening." His face fell at that and Clara frowned. Don't make it seem worse than it is Doctor, just tell her. He didn't know why they called it his birthday, it was just the day he escaped from the orphanage but still.

"Yeah," he said with a reluctant smile. "Good news, bad news situation there. The good news is that I managed to get my birthday off of work…" Clara squealed and threw herself into his arms. "The bad news is that the day after my birthday I have to go to America for a business trip. The company needs me to try and get the Americans on board. I'll be gone for a few days hopefully but depending on how talks go, I could be gone for up to a week." Clara looked slightly crestfallen at this and the Doctor bit his lip. "You can spend that time with your dad. Sort out all the wedding stuff and I'll be right here when you get back." She nodded, her smile slowly returning. The Doctor eyed her up and down. It was obvious why Clara was so emotional, as a tear rolled down her cheek. He didn't know if he should bring it up but he knew he couldn't avoid the topic forever. "How was home?" he asked quietly and Clara's eyes snapped onto his.

"Tough," she replied honestly. "I expected that, it always is. But my dad did what he always does on Mum day. He put me first. It's one of the few times I can actually rely on him, no matter how useless he is the rest of the time. And with no Bitchy around, it made life that much easier. But I miss her. I always miss her. It was hard without you there, I really wanted you there. But I talked about you a bit to her. I always talk to her when I visit her. Just because I like to think that if she's out there somewhere, that she can hear me. And she'd want to know what's going on. What I'm doing, how I'm doing. Who I'm doing," Clara added with a giggle through her sniffle. "I told her how amazing you are and how much she'd love you. I think she agreed, but it was difficult to tell, she didn't say anything." The Doctor laughed at that. "I don't know how I coped before you came along," she confessed. "I suppose I didn't really. I'm lucky I wasn't in a much worse state when you pitched up in that philosophy lesson. She drove me on, I guess. I was determined not to completely fuck up my life or I'd never forgive myself for letting her down. Even when she was gone, she was still the only thing keeping me safe. She was still guiding me. My mum. She's gone."

Clara looked as though she might break into tears again and the Doctor wrapped his arm around her as they cuddled together on the sofa. They sat there for a while, the Doctor's tea getting cold as he ignored it. It was to be one of those days, he realised. The days where nothing really happened and where they didn't really try to make anything happen. It was to be a day of just Clara and the Doctor, side by side. She might not have her mum still with her, but she had him. The day did indeed pass as the Doctor predicted, a quiet mix of sadness and joy, nothing really happening and neither of them really that bothered about the whole thing. The Doctor decided that they needed more days like this. And they would have the rest of their lives to do that.

The weekend passed quickly and the Doctor was loathe to go back to his job. He always was. Every weekend, knowing that he was a whole five days away from Clara. He found little ways to get himself through the day of course, but it was never quite the same. The weekends were way too short and the rest of the week way too long. It wasn't too long, the Doctor reminded himself, until he could move back in with Clara and spend every day with her. But those two months and a bit months felt like an eternity away. It annoyed him that he was being shipped off to America, away from Clara when the possibility of more time alone with her was on offer, but it was only for a few days. And they had his 'birthday'. The Doctor could find his birth certificate, he reckoned, but what would be the point? He had a day that he and Clara had made, that they could share. And she had managed to take one of the worst things he had done and turned that day into a happy occasion. An occasion for celebration. He couldn't take that away from her or himself. Clara Oswald tried so hard for him and he loved that about her. He loved everything about her of course, but that wasn't the point. He could always rely on Clara.

* * *

Amy Pond was having a mental breakdown, Clara learned. The text had been frantic and Clara had rushed onto campus, looking for the specific girls' toilet that Amy had texted her location from. In Clara's eyes, if you were texting from a toilet, things were about as bad as they could get. Sure enough, Amy had tears running down her face and she was vomiting from nerves. Clara patted her gently on the back. The Scottish red head had a heart of gold, but she was still struggling. It was the last week of term and for Clara, a last chance to spend time with Tom and Annabelle for a while. But Annabelle had gone to see her mother and Tom was in a lecture, a lecture that she supposed Amy Pond should be in.

"I can't believe this," Amy was saying and Clara patted her on the back. "He proposed. He fucking proposed." Clara's eyebrows shot into her fringe. Wait what? "I didn't know who else to text! I mean what do I do? He's probably taking this as a no isn't he? Oh God, that wasn't the idea at all. I just didn't know what to do, what to say! I mean I want to say yes but we're so young and…"

"Amy!" Clara shouted and Amy looked at her, eyes full of fear. "Calm down. Someone proposed to you?"

"Rory," she smiled. "My boyfriend. My Rory. He proposed, popped the question. But we have no money and no house and it's all really crazy. We've been best friends for as long as I can remember and we've together for two, three years. But we're only 19 and he's lovely, gorgeous and I love him more than words can say but am I ready for this? He got his ring off his parents, we can't even afford to go out for dinner…"

"Amy!" Clara laughed and Amy looked at her shocked. "Rory knows all that. You don't have to get married right away, he knows that too. You have someone who loves you like crazy and wants to make you his bride. Isn't that amazing?"

"Yes!" Amy breathed and threw her arms around Clara, who was taken-aback. "Yes of course it is! Thank you Clara!" Clara smiled, unable to believe what had just happened. "Oh my God Rory! I need to go and find him! I need to say yes! Oh my God Clara, I'm getting engaged!"

Amy was a delirious mess and raced past Clara out of the loos. Clara stood there for a moment, hunched and them shook her head in disbelief. Well that was a crazy conversation. She was still chuckling as she left the room and almost collided with someone entering. Clara muttered an apology and then frowned. It was River.

"Sorry," River said, as they stood there awkwardly. "I didn't mean to bump into you. Listen Clara, things will never be anything other than awkward between us. But I just wanted you to know that I'm glad you and the Doctor are happy. And together. I assume you still are, I haven't heard from him but there are always rumours flying around. Look after him Clara, because he's the best man I've ever known."

Clara was taken aback for the second time in a minute. She took a deep breath, trying to control the swirling mass of emotions that had become her head. "Thanks," she said eventually. "I'll do my best."

She left River behind her and texted Annabelle, seeing what time she would be visiting that evening. The response was disappointing. Clara sighed. Her last week in town and she couldn't see one of her closest friends. Her phone bleeped again. It was Tom. He'd heard she was on campus and fancied seeing if she was up for lunch. Clara smiled. She was glad he never let her down, especially when she needed him.

* * *

Well this was the icing on the cake, the Doctor decided. Clara shot him a questioning look as he beamed from his laptop. His birthday had already been perfect. Clara had stayed for the weekend to ensure that he wasn't alone when he woke up and they'd had an amazing day. She'd taken him out to dinner in London and shopping. She'd bought him a fez, which he'd instantly decided he loved, and a new tweed jacket, a green one which he'd thrown on instantly. He was the epitome of joy and now, this email had made everything perfect. Made his day perfect.

"Saxon!" the Doctor grinned. "He's going to prison. For a very long time. We'll never see him again. We're free from him Clara. Free forever. Our past, my past. It's finally going away. We have the rest of our lives, free from Saxon. Free from the Master. And free from River," he added, earning her a smile. "And Jessie. They're all gone. Everything that makes us hurt, that gives us pain is gone. There's only you and me left. And Tom and Annabelle and our friends and family. The future is ours, to do what we will with it."

Clara's smile was so wide, the Doctor was worried she'd strain something. He ran to hug her. She kissed him and he kissed her back, passion running through him as they wrapped their arms around each other. It was a shame, the Doctor thought, that he'd be off to America the following day or he'd never have let Clara go. Their kiss deepened. He felt her tongue penetrate his soul and he gasped as her hands traced down his back. His own went for her waist and she clucked approvingly. His shirt was ripped from his back and she was gasping for air as she broke the kiss, trailing his lips down his bare chest and further down still. The Doctor gasped in agony, pleasure rocking his every body part until he could hold it in no longer and he exploded, hearing Clara squeal. She kissed him again and he tasted himself, the thought strange in his mind. She giggled as she threw him down, he was exhausted and she was straddling him.

"I am going to be with you forever Clara Oswald," the Doctor informed her and she nodded.

"And I'm going to be with you for even longer."

* * *

The plane had taken off and Clara watched as it shot into the sky. She felt a pang of sadness. It would only be for a few days, she knew that, but losing the Doctor made her feel vulnerable. Tom wrapped an arm lazily around her shoulder and she smiled appreciatively. It meant a lot to her that he had come with her to see the Doctor off, despite his misgivings about her boyfriend. He had been his usual cheery self and Clara doubted the Doctor had even realised that Tom was suspicious of him since the Jessie incident, though no doubt he had probably considered the possibility. They were heading back into London. Tom had offered to let Clara stay at his for one night before she headed back up to Blackpool. She had a torrent of mind-numbing wedding tasks to perform. The one thing she wanted more than anything was for July to come around. For the wedding and all her uni rubbish and the Doctor's job to all be things of the past and for her to be free to do whatever she wanted with the man she loved. They were so close and yet they were on the last hurdle.

The idea of her father being married still made Clara feel ill and Tom joking about it on the tube back didn't help the situation. No matter how many elbows she shot into his ribs, he never stopped teasing her, Clara had realised. It was one of the things that she loved about Tom, he didn't give a fuck. He was a great friend and she sensed that he knew it too, which was partly why he was always so cocky around her.

They stepped out of the train and they walked up through the station. Clara had always been wary of tube stations and the more she used them, the more she realised she disliked them. They were always truly grotty, horrible places, full of dirt and dust and people. Not that she had anything against people in general but there were so many of them. All the pushing, the sweating, the whole thing stank. And a lot of people weren't exactly friendly. Whilst there were an innumerable amount of nice, normal people travelling down there, the simple fact was that the scum of London town also made appearances. The sheer volume of people meant that by balance of probability alone, a good number of them would be scummy, but Clara hated the way some of them made grabs for her or tried to pick Tom's pocket. His response to both of them was the same, a grip on their arm and a threat to break it. That usually did the trick.

They broke out into the busy streets of London, staying close together as cars raced past, horns honking and blazing, threatening to knock down any cyclists or pedestrians who wandered too close to them. Clara still disliked London. It was too busy, far too full. When the Doctor was done with his prototype, she hoped they could move to a small town or maybe even back to Blackpool. A large part of her wanted to go home, even if it wasn't the same place that she left. She supposed home would be wherever the Doctor was. Amy's proposal was still playing on her mind. The Doctor hadn't proposed to her. She supposed it was way too early to be considering that sort of thing. They hadn't even been together six months and Amy and Rory had known each other forever. It made no sense for the Doctor to propose now. Was he even the type? Clara was in her own head too much, she decided. Tom was giving her an odd look and she was trying to work out why.

"You have a dreamy look in your eyes," he said sceptically. "I don't like it."

Clara burst out laughing and he joined in. They carried on walking, step by step. They were off the main streets now and it was quiet, the sun just setting against the skyscraper filled sky behind them. Tom's area of town was not very busy at the best of times, but at this time of the evening, there was hardly ever anyone around. Tom moved closer to her, as if he was protecting her from something. The back streets could be dangerous places, Clara reminded herself and the look on his face told her that he was thinking the same thing. The noise was the first warning. It was a screech, very loud and very whining, like a car swerving. It was quite far away, but behind them and Clara and Tom turned. Clara moved away from him on instinct, and they stared into the night. Then, the headlights, blinding against the auburn sky. Clara blinked and Tom swore, staggering from the night. Clara stumbled and almost took into the road but kept her balance and shot Tom a look of relief. But the headlights were rapidly getting nearer and the car was swerving all over the road. The driver seemed to have no control as it shot towards them. It was going much faster than the speed limit, Clara knew that much and it was only a matter of a few seconds before it was upon them.

Clara stood, caught like a deer in the headlights. She was a deer in the headlights in every sense that mattered. The driver must have seen her but it mattered not. He was still ploughing on and Clara found that she was rooted to the spot by fear. The headlights grew bigger and time slowed. It would be no more than a couple of seconds now before the car passed by her. But it was still swerving, and the kerb was practically non-existent. The car wasn't going to pass Clara by. It was going to hit her. There was no time to get out of the way. She had but a moment to live. Clara heard Tom shout but knew it was too late. In the final moment of her life, Clara Oswald thought of the Doctor. And then she closed her eyes.


	32. Chapter 32: America

***HELLO STONEHENGE! First off, apologies about last night's cliffhanger (yet another one). Secondly, this chapter is written entirely from the Doctor's perspective and is set (obviously) while he's in America, so there is no immediate resolution to said cliffhanger. It does however, explore the Doctor's thoughts a bit more and introduce some more fan pleasing characters. I did seriously consider skipping this chapter entirely and having the last part of this chapter become the beginning of the next one, but I needed the end of this chapter to have a real emotional kick. I hope it's not too frustrating for you guys, but please please review and let me know what you think of the chapter and of the ending. Thank you so much to everyone who has read, followed, favourited and reviewed this story thus far and those of you who have threatened to kill me...well it shows you love the story, I know it's all in jest. See you tomorrow. The Potter Doctor***

* * *

The Doctor touched down in America. The land of hope and glory. Specifically, he was in Washington D.C, capital of the United States of America. It was hot, sticky and full of people. The Doctor was somewhat less than impressed. He just had to get through the next three or four days without killing anyone and it would all work out fine. Three others had come with him, to undertake the task. Jenny was head of Accounting, her job was handle the money side of things whilst they were over in America. She was short and brunette, much like Clara, but less beautiful in the Doctor's opinion. Not that that meant anything, he didn't think anyone was as pretty as Clara Oswald. Jenny was smitten with lead scientist Vastra and the Doctor wasn't sure, but he had a good idea that they were together. When they got to the hotel and ordered a joint room, that only confirmed it. Vastra was brilliant and she understood almost everything the Doctor said, which was in itself a small miracle. He needed someone who understood the project with him on his quest to sell the sonic project to the American government, someone who could deal with people. The Doctor was in charge, but he ran everything past Vastra and she was the one with a cool head on her shoulders. The third member of their party was security. The Doctor had insisted that he didn't need a bodyguard but Captain Strax had been assigned to him anyway. Short and stumpy, Strax was hard as nails and didn't take crap from anyone. His combat skills were second to none and he carried a firearm with him at all times. In America, that would be handy.

The hotel they were checked into was a highly prestigious one in the heart of Washington and the Doctor hated the fanciness of the whole thing. It was far too white, far too clinical. It reminded him of the orphanage. That was an ugly thought, he decided, a thought he pressed into the deepest recesses of his mind. He couldn't call or text Clara because her phone charged so much for international calls and texts but he was going to email her when he got the chance. They settled into the hotel and the Doctor felt lonely. He had Strax never far away, as Vastra and Jenny went out for dinner and the Doctor and Strax ordered room service, but Strax wasn't the best company. He was grumpy and growling and always complaining about something or another. He was in truth, pretty wretched company and the Doctor really hoped that this wouldn't be the pattern for the entire trip. He liked Vastra, she was very bright and it was nice to be able to talk about quantum physics with someone. Growing up, it had had to have been Ten but now he was Clara, he rarely got the chance to talk shop except at work. The Doctor was flipping a pack of cards as Strax gorged himself on pizza and started moaning about the lack of a pool. The Doctor shut him out and nibbled on his own pizza, his thoughts consumed by Clara. Beautiful, amazing Clara.

The evening passed slowly and painfully, but eventually Strax went to his conjoined room and hit the sack. The Doctor could hear him snoring through the wall. He struggled to sleep at all that night, even though he probably needed it. The next day they went to meet their American contact. The Doctor was worried that he would be some corporate nutbag, whose head was so far up his arse that he could probably taste his breakfast. Luckily, he turned out to be an utterly charming, hilarious man by the name of Jack Harkness. Jack was incredibly interested in the project and managed to make even the normally socially unaware Doctor feel right at home. Jack suggested that they all go out for a drink that night and despite the Doctor's insistence that it wasn't necessary, he found himself dragged along. Vastra was a red wine drinker, the Doctor knew that already. Jenny drank gin and tonic, Strax was a lager man and Jack drank either martinis or scotch straight. He also bought them a bottle of champagne. The Doctor stuck with cider.

The first couple of days in America were very enjoyable. Jack showed them the best of what Washington had to offer and negotiations were going very well. But then, as things inevitably did, they went wrong. Jack mentioned something that sent the Doctor's stomach spiralling. They were at dinner on the third night and the Doctor had been hoping to go home the following day. When he posed the question to Jack about how long they'd be staying for, Jack had waved his hand.

"Listen Doctor," he said. "The way these companies work is very thorough but annoyingly slow. You'll be here for two weeks. Not a day more or a day less, I can promise you that. I'm sorry Doc, I know you wanted to be out of here quickly, to go back to Clara, that's the name of your girlfriend right?"

"Yes," the Doctor replied, his good mood evaporated. "Clara. I suppose I'll have to let her know that I won't be able to rescue her from her wedding nightmare for at least a week and a bit then. Sorry for being such a grouch but I'm going to head home. I want to email Clara."

The Doctor excused himself and went back to the hotel, letting out his frustrations on a pillow before emailing Clara, quickly explaining that he loved her more than anything but that he'd be stuck in America for a lot longer than he'd hoped. The Doctor ended up going to the nearest chemist and getting some sleeping tablets, because at least when he was asleep he couldn't miss Clara. He did manage to sleep that night, but he was plagued by nightmares. He dreamt that everything was fire and that Clara was burning, her screams striking him from every angle. The screams of Clara burning. She was always just out of reach, he could always get close to her but he could never save her. The sound of her begging him for death sent him over the edge and he woke, sweaty and pained. He resolved not to sleep again that trip. He threw the pills in the bin. Jack noted how bad he looked the next day but the Doctor didn't care. Vastra had a word with him before their presentation but he was completely unable to pull himself together and Vastra had to lead the power point. The Doctor didn't care, he was useless at explaining himself anyway and the majority of people were so stupid they got lost halfway through his sentences.

The Doctor's foul mood got the better of him on the fifth day as he spend the evening sat in the hotel bar, drinking whiskey with Strax. This proved to be a ridiculous plan and when he crashed into his bedroom, he passed out and slept, once again plagued by dreams, this time of Clara sleeping with Jessie while he was away. He tried to relax himself the next morning by telling himself that Clara would be hanging out with Angie and Artie in Blackpool and getting pissed off with her father. She hadn't returned his email. Vastra slapped some sense into him and by day seven, he'd realised that wallowing in self-pity was not the answer. He started to come out of his shell and started to engage more in the work that they were doing. After all, it was his passion, the reason that he became a physicist. The Doctor launched into crazy long spiels that he was fairly sure none of the people he was talking to understood. But it didn't bother him, because it was what he loved doing.

Vastra was a lot more cheerful once the Doctor was and Jenny was constantly bemused as the two riffed about science over dinner that night. Strax was grumbling to Jack about something or another and for a while, the Doctor managed to not worry about Clara. It was only when he got home and found that she still hadn't emailed him back that he felt the familiar prangs of guilt creep in. He flipped open his phone and weighed up calling her. He bit his lip and decided against it. Clara would be busy, she didn't need him giving her a massive phone bill just because he was lonely.

The next week was one of the longest of the Doctor's life. There were times when that was a good thing. After all, for a physicist it was a dream, to be taking America by storm and to talk nonstop about his work for a week, giving some practical demonstrations of the sonic in action and managing to win over American businessmen was a feat that the Doctor and Vastra were getting increasingly good at. However, there were also times, mainly when he was lying in bed alone, that he wanted more than anything to just hop on a flight back to England and jump into Clara's arms. It was agony when he missed her and he hated himself for letting himself get too attached. He and Clara couldn't be together every minute of every day, so losing her for a week or two was something that he would have to get over.

By the time the last night in the US rolled around, the Doctor was elated to be going home. The last night was a crazy one, Jack took them to the hottest bar in the city and they all got absolutely wasted. The Doctor found himself liking the American more and more as they got to know each other better and Jack promised to look up the Doctor next time he was in London. They exchanged email addresses and the Doctor looked forward to hearing more of Jack's stories. Jack was the biggest flirt that the Doctor had ever met and didn't seem to differentiate between anyone. He even flirted with Strax and on that last night, they ended up getting into a good-natured bar fight and ended up thrown out.

The time came to fly back to England and the Doctor was excited, despite the splitting pain in his head that made him so crippled he was surprised he could stand. Vastra was wearing the biggest sunglasses known to man, her skin positively green with illness. Jenny looked like death and Strax's communication had resorted to grunts and he looked almost like a potato he slouched so much. The Doctor himself had slept in his bow tie, otherwise he would have struggled to get it on and there was no way in hell he was greeting Clara Oswald without it. He was wearing his fez, he decided on the plane and this earned him more than a few odd looks. Someone muttered something about English people and Strax threatened to brain them, which went down well with airport security. By the time they'd talked their way out of it, it was almost time for their excruciatingly long flight, which the Doctor was absolutely dreading with a hangover. Jack had pitched up to see them off and also to gloat. His extraordinary lack of a hangover made the Doctor very annoyed.

The flight itself was every bit as long, drawn out and dull as the Doctor had been expecting. He tried to fall asleep but of course that didn't work and he ended up watching all three Lord of the Rings films in an attempt to pass the time. The flight seemed to go on forever and the Doctor was itching to get home. The final half an hour was the worst as the seconds seemed to tick by in years. It was like watching an egg timer, each grain of sand clinging to the top half for as long as it physically could before finally sliding, bit by bit down until there were a small number left and they were still clinging, making each lingering moment torture. When the plane touched down, the next couple of hours were equally painful. To know that Clara was so close, in the same country but yet so far away. He hadn't heard from her since he left but he assumed she would be up in Blackpool. He had emailed her his flight return details but she hadn't replied. Even so, he had to admit he was very upset when he finally broke free of the security and hassle and made it out of the airport to find that she was nowhere to be seen.

The Doctor thumbed out the most loving and apologetic text message he could muster to Clara, sending it and hopefully waiting for a return. The taxi home took nearly an hour and there was still no reply from Clara. He tried calling her but it went straight to voicemail. Her phone was off or out of battery. The Doctor was slightly worried about Clara now and he was nervous in case something had happened. He got back to his apartment and there wasn't much to suggest that Clara had been around at all. Everything was almost exactly as he'd left it, only it was missing a lot of Clara's stuff, although the fact that she'd left her usual gear was a good sign. The Doctor raised an eyebrow. It was to be another long and sleepless night.

The next morning, a long hot shower was required. The Doctor made pancakes for two, then remembered that Clara wasn't joining him so ate both sets reluctantly and in silence. He had three cups of tea, the caffeine making him more energetic and agitated. He had a train booked that afternoon to the university. It was halfway between the Doctor and Blackpool, so it made sense to go there first, rather than pitching up in Blackpool straight away, where he might not be wanted. He knew Clara would want to see him but he doubted everyone would be so forgiving of his absence for two weeks. He tried to call Clara again but her phone was still off and she hadn't replied to his email.

The waiting for the train was every bit as agonizing as the Doctor expected. It was delayed by twenty minutes and once he was on it, it took even longer. The worst part was the final walk to Clara's apartment from the train station. It took half an hour. The Doctor was cold, tired and hungry by this point and every nerve in his body had kicked into overdrive. He was dreading seeing Clara in case things went wrong, but at the same time, he felt happier than he'd been since he left. The Doctor whistled cheerily but it was more to calm his nerves than anything else. Each step was painful and when he was close enough to see the house, he felt himself boiling over. He just needed to calm down, it had only been two weeks, what was the worst thing that could have happened? Clara would be fine, they had plenty of time to spend together. He had a few days before he had to return to work and she had a couple of weeks before uni returned and she was in the bowels of exam season.

The Doctor knocked on the door, every emotion within him heightened beyond belief. But it wasn't Clara that came running to answer the door. And it took longer than the average ten seconds. After a solid eighteen, long, agonising seconds, Annabelle opened the door and stared at him, up and down. Her eyes were red raw from crying and her face and hair were dishevelled. She looked as if she hadn't slept in a week and maybe she hadn't. The Doctor smiled at her, increasingly desperate to enter the apartment and see Clara. Then, Annabelle slapped him so hard he stumbled backwards. His face stung and he staggered back, so confused by the venom behind it. Annabelle had looked shattered a few moments ago, now she was blazing anger as she pounded on his chest furiously, the way Clara would have done.

"Where? The? Fuck? Have? You? Been?" Annabelle screamed, punctuating each word with increasingly feeble punches until she burst into tears and hugged the Doctor so hard he thought he might burst. She was sobbing and sobbing, wracked by tears. The Doctor had never seen her more upset. He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone so upset. Something truly terrible must have happened. Confusion rocked him and then blind panic. Clara? His Clara?

"Annabelle?" he asked in a shaky voice. "What happened?"

"You don't know?" Annabelle asked in disbelief as she broke the hug, staring at the Doctor in horror, pity and anger all conflicted in her eyes. The Doctor found himself terrified now, unable to breathe. He shook his head. "Oh Doctor, I am so sorry." She hugged him again now and the Doctor needed her to say something, to tell him that Clara was okay.

"Clara?" he whispered. "Is she okay?"

"No," Annabelle replied bluntly. "She's not. She needed you Doctor. She needed you by her side and you were nowhere to be found. Something happened, something truly terrible. She and Tom were walking back to his house, after you left for the US. Three days, she said you'd be gone, by the way. I've been waiting for you to come back for two fucking weeks, I didn't know how to break the news to you. But there was a car. A speeding car." The Doctor felt the pit of his stomach crash out. He was sobbing now, silently, desperate for Annabelle's words not to be what he thought that they were going to be.

"Annabelle, please," he whispered but Annabelle ploughed on.

"He must've been going 60/70 miles an hour. Way too fast, drunk by the sounds of it. The driver is in custody. But Clara was caught. She couldn't get out the way."

"Is she dead?" the Doctor rasped, unable to think of anything except praying to every God he could think of that Clara was still alive. "Is she alive?"

"She's alive," Annabelle said and the Doctor let out a choked sob of relief and threw his arms around Annabelle, laughing and crying at the same time. But Annabelle wasn't sharing in his jubilation. She was quiet, too quiet. "But that's not it."

"What then?" the Doctor whispered. "Is she in a coma? Paralysed? How bad is it?"

"Doctor," Annabelle sighed. "Clara's fine. Physically at least. Emotionally she's gone but physically there's nothing wrong with her. She's in bed now, where she always is. But Tom…Tom threw himself in the way. He shoved her out the way, and the car hit him instead. He didn't stand a chance Doctor. By the time the ambulance pitched up, he was already gone. Clara won't tell me what his last words were, but the funeral is next week, in London. Doctor, Tom's dead."


	33. Chapter 33: Crucible

***Hello all! I hope you're all having a good weekend. I'm having a much better Saturday than last week, because I've got a lesser hangover, Liverpool won and I have every intention of finishing this story over the weekend. I feel it's finally safe to tell you guys the truth, I'M WRITING A SEQUEL. I've had the idea in my head for a long time now that I wanted this story to continue beyond university, but this story is a university story, so to carry on, I'm going to write a sequel, which will be set roughly five years after this story. The five chapters or so that are left in this story will mop up the events of the last chapter and carry us through to the wedding. This chapter, for me, is the single most important chapter in the entire story and it should be clear why as you read it. A few people have mentioned that they find it odd nobody contacted the Doctor. I'm going to deal with that here. I'm going to be doing this chapter in two timestreams, one picking up where the last chapter left off and the other dealing with the two weeks while the Doctor was gone. A fair warning, I'm going to describe Tom's death, so if you're squeamish about violence, you should proceed with caution but I tried my hardest not to be graphic at all. I'm also going to stick another AN at the end, so I apologise for ranting. Anyway, I'll let you get on with it, I don't know if anyone reads these anyway :') Please, please review, as I say, this chapter is critical for me and I want to know how it goes down. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, as I've just hit 200 reviews! those of you who have favourited and everyone who has helped me almost hit 100 followers. One last push, we're in the top 90s. But even if you're just a casual reader, thanks for that too. Right, The Potter Doctor out.***

* * *

_Clara had braced herself for impact but it never came. Well it did, just not in the way she was expecting. She felt herself being barged to one side and her heart stopped for a moment. Then she pitched onto the pavement and the crunching sound that filled the air was almost as painful as the scream that accompanied it. Clara gasped for air and opened her eyes. The world froze for a moment. The only sound that filled the air was the screeching of the car as it drove off. Clara was fine. She was alright. She felt a bit bruised and grazed by the car but she should have been dead. She still should be. She was staring, caught in the moment. Tom. She'd tried to ignore the events that had just transpired, trying to ignore the inevitable conclusion that she arrived as she put them all together. The entire thing had taken two maybe three seconds but Clara knew what it meant. She was on her feet and was by his side in an instant. He was a mess, blood everywhere. Clara's vision failed her and her resolve failed her. She turned away from Tom and vomited, unable to look at him and ashamed that she couldn't. She phoned an ambulance straight away but she knew in her heart that it was too late._

_"Clara?" Tom choked, the word sending shockwaves running through Clara. She couldn't do it. Not again. She couldn't lose him the way she lost her mum. She shouted and cried down the phone rapidly, still ignoring him until the woman on the other end of the phone kindly informed her that an ambulance was on its way. Clara refused to turn and look at him, as if ignoring him would make it all go away. She was ashamed but she couldn't do it. She couldn't watch him die._

_"Clara, please!" Tom gasped, his words ragged, barely formed yet penetrating the silent night like daggers. Daggers aimed squarely at Clara's heart. She took a deep breath. She had to suck it up. If he was going to die for her, the least she could do was honour him by listening to his last words. _

_"I'm here," she sobbed, her voice broken and she was in floods of tears before she knew it. "Tom, don't die. Please, for me, don't die. I need you not to die."_

_"There's nothing either of us can do Clara, I'm dead." The words sent her staggering back before she returned to his side, wracked by sobs, her hand gently on his face. "It's okay," he whispered and Clara just wanted him to stop talking more than anything. "I'm okay. I saved you, that's the main thing." The worst thing he could possibly have said as guilt and bile rose up within Clara and it took all of her self-control not to turn away to vomit again. Her eyes were pinned to his face, the only part of him that wasn't covered in blood. "Listen to me Clara. Whatever happens, know that there are people out there who love you. Annabelle loves you, your dad loves you…" he stopped to groan in pain and Clara could almost hear the ambulance in the background and started screaming for help again. But they were alone. "The Doctor, for all his faults, he loves you. Never let him go Clara," Tom groaned. "I know I said a lot about him, but he will always take care of him. And me…" He let a tear roll down his cheek and suddenly the blood no longer fazed Clara and her arms were around him, choked sobs filling the air. "Clara Oswald, I love you. I've loved you for so long and in so many ways. You deserve more than anything to be happy and I regret not being around to see you fulfil all you want to in life. But I am proud that I could be a part of it and that I could help make it happen. Clara, do me one favour. Tell my family I love them. Tell them to be strong. And tell Chloe that she was the best little sister that anyone could ask for. And tell Annabelle I'm sorry. Clara," he choked now and lay back. He didn't say anything more, just rasped and choked until he stopped breathing. Clara screamed and screamed, shaking him and crying and begging him to wake up. She didn't know what else to do. CPR would have been pointless; his chest was a bloody mess, even if she'd thought of it. By the time the ambulance turned up, he was long since dead and she was covered in his blood, crying and she'd never felt more alone in her entire life. _

* * *

The Doctor's immediate reaction had been shock, mixed with a bittersweet relief and an agony like he himself had been hit by a car. Tom, dead? And Clara was okay? He didn't know how to react to it, a swirling pit of emotions rising up inside of him. It took him several minutes to compose himself, Annabelle not saying anything and he just stammering sentences. Gratitude was his overwhelming thought. Tom had sacrificed his life for Clara's. That was a debt the Doctor would never be able to repay, never would get the chance to repay. He loved Tom in that moment, truly loved him and felt so very sad that he was gone. But all his thoughts, selfish as he was, revolved around Clara. She would be devastated. Truly and completely devastated. She would have been destroyed by what had happened and she would have needed him more than she'd ever needed him. And he'd been somewhere else. He was always somewhere else. First Jessie, now this. Every time Clara Oswald, the woman he loved most needed him, he'd left her in the lurch. And Tom had always been there. Been there to save her. The Doctor slapped himself mentally. Not only was he wrong, as he'd been there when Clara needed saving from the Master, but it didn't matter. He didn't matter. Clara mattered right now, more than anything. The Doctor swallowed all his emotions and did the one thing that he should have been doing days and days ago. He went to comfort Clara.

* * *

_Clara crashed into the Doctor's apartment. She had showered and changed out of her bloody clothes at the hospital, called Annabelle and made sure that Tom's family were there and answered all of their questions before she left. The paramedics had done their best to reassure both Clara and the family that there was no point blaming anyone except the driver. Tom had been dead from the moment he'd hit the car, and there was nothing Clara could have done. Except died herself. Clara was angry with Tom. She hated herself for it, but all she felt was overwhelming anger that he'd considered her worth throwing his life away for. And now she owed her life to another person. Two dead souls, watching over her. Another person that she couldn't let down. Her life was mapped by the people she'd lost. First her mum, who had gotten her here, and now Tom. Who would guide her onwards. She was glad that the Parker household had been so understanding and accepting and Clara had laughed when the doctor at the hospital had mentioned survivor's guilt. He had suggested counselling, which Clara had laughed bluntly at and informed him that she'd tried that once and it had ended abysmally. Then she'd left, unable to stay in that building any longer._

_Clara took out the two bottles she'd bought on the way home. She was surprised that in her tear-soaked state, wearing borrowed clothes from the hospital with her own clothes in a bag covered in blood that she'd been served at all, but maybe she didn't look as bad as she felt. It was impossible. She lingered on the bottle of vodka, every fibre of her being wanting to pick it up and never put it down. She unscrewed the cap and stared at the booze. She wanted it, so much. It was calling to her. The Doctor would tell her not to drink it. The Doctor would tell her that she didn't need it. The Doctor would tell her everything would be alright and she might even have believed him. But the Doctor was nowhere to be seen. He was in America and there was no telling when he'd be back. It could be two days, it could be a week. And until then, she was completely and utterly alone. Annabelle had cried a lot down the phone when she'd told her and then hung up. Clara didn't blame her. She didn't know what to do. _

_Clara looked at the alcohol once more and then sealed it, screwing the cap back on. She had to be strong. If she started down that road, she'd never recover. And Tom's death would be for nothing. She had to be better than that. She put the vodka back in the bag, removed the other bottle and then took the bag of booze and hurled it out of the Doctor's window, as far as she could, into the Thames, which his building overlooked. She breathed deeply, over and over again. She stared at the other bottle, blonde hair dye. Tom had always joked that she would look shit as a blonde. Well fuck him. He was dead. And she would do whatever she damn well pleased. Clara opened the bottle. _

* * *

The Doctor didn't even bother knocking on Clara's bedroom door, he just went inside. She would have known he was there; she couldn't have failed to hear his argument with Annabelle outside. She was sat on the bed cross-legged, a blank expression on her face, completely free of emotion. She was wearing her onesie and was completely free of makeup. There were no tear stains on her cheek or any signs of distress at all except her hair. It fell in tangles down to her shoulders, all life stripped from it as it hung limply, a dim yellow colour. This was not the Clara that the Doctor knew or loved. How would she ever forgive him? How could he ever forgive himself? Another mental slap. This. Was. Not. About. Him. If she noticed he was in the room, she didn't acknowledge his presence, although a flicker of life sparked in her eyes. They followed him as he approached, sitting down facing her. He took her hands.

"Clara," he breathed. "I just heard. I am so, so, sorry. I should have been here."

* * *

_Clara needed the Doctor more than anything. Her dad hadn't said anything when he'd opened the door. He hadn't commented on her lack of luggage, or her red raw eyes and cheeks, streaked from crying. He'd said absolutely nothing about her bedraggled clothing, or her disgusting blonde locks that tumbled from her head like snakes. He had got everything he needed from the sobbing phone call she'd given him the previous night. If Bitch-Face was in the house, she was nowhere to be seen. The fact that her father didn't pull her straight into a hug upset Clara, but no more than she was already upset. She had to make the first move and even then he didn't say anything, he just returned the hug. She went straight upstairs and slammed the door, sobbing. She placed the bottle of vodka in front of her and stared in down. Since she'd thrown the first bottle away, she'd gone out and bought another one. Not to drink, just to stare at every day. Every time she felt awful and every time she felt she needed a drink, she'd stare at it, to remind herself not to let it beat her. That she was going to be strong. That she would cope without Tom. Without the Doctor. _

* * *

"It's okay." The words weren't forced or harsh. The Doctor opened and closed his mouth. She looked at him, her eyes neutral. "I understand," she continued, in the same, monotone voice. "You were in America, it was important. I got your email in the end. I just couldn't bring myself to reply. I'm sorry I didn't contact you, but I didn't want you to come home if you were needed. I knew I could cope without you. I'm fine Doctor. Completely fine."

But she looked anything but fine. When she smiled, it was watery, cold. But it was genuine. The Doctor had been terrified that Clara would either break down completely or throw up a façade. She had done neither. Instead, she just acted completely emotionless. She held it for a moment and then she threw her arms around him, breathing deeply and saying in a voice that was finally her own and full of emotion.

"I'm so glad you're back," she said, her voice almost breaking but she held it together. "The last two weeks have been complete hell without you. But I knew I had to pull through. No booze, no Doctor. It was the only way." She was crying now. "I was angry at first. With you for not being here, at Tom for what he did, with the world. But I coped. I made it through, with a lot of crying. Dad was every bit as useless as you'd expect but at least he kept Bitch-Face off my back. I miss him so much, but I'm not going to let losing him break me the way losing my mum broke me. I'm going to live for him," she informed the Doctor, who smiled warmly at her. "And now that you're back, I can do it. I know I can. I may be damaged," Clara smiled at him through her tears. "But I'm going to fix myself."

* * *

_She ate breakfast silently. Her father was still eyeing her up closely, watching every bite of Clara's porridge slide down her throat. Bitch-Face had appeared this morning, as she occasionally did. She'd told Clara how sorry she was but other than that she had said nothing to her, which Clara appreciated a lot. More than words could express. There had been low points in her stay. There had been moments where she had considered bleak things, but her faith in Tom had pulled her through. She was doing this for him. Because he had loved her and believed in her. And Tom's dying wish was for her to be happy. So damn it all, she was going to be happy, however long it took and however hard it was. Clara had spent half an hour that morning just sat in her room, staring at the bottle of vodka, before announcing to it that it was not the boss of her. She had washed her hair as well that day, which at least sorted out the mess of it, although some of the dye had faded to a disgustingly murky yellow. _

_Her father had asked if there was anything he could do for her before she got the train to see Annabelle. Clara had replied that there was nothing and that was the truth. Clara was glad in many ways, that her dad didn't know how to be there for her. The only way she could get through this was alone, in many ways. It was how everything had started, after all. Clara swallowed the last of her porridge, picked up her bags and hugged her father goodbye. It was time to face the consequences. _

_Annabelle was every bit the wreck Clara had expected. The fact that Clara was so cool seemed to phase her and Clara could tell Annabelle was every bit as emotionally shot as she was so left her alone, staying in her bedroom unless Annabelle knocked on her door, begging her to talk. Clara told Annabelle what Tom asked her to tell her, that he was sorry, just like she'd told his family what he's asked her to tell them. But nothing else. She didn't mention Tom's admittance. That he loved her. In so many ways. He'd been very ambiguous, Clara mused. Part of her had known that already and just accepted it in the way she'd always known him. As joking, platonic, wonderful, caring, trusting Tom. But was that all he had meant? She looked back over all his actions with a new light, a new gloss, desperate to glean if there was something there she had missed, something his final words could enlighten her on. Did he truly love her the way she could think he meant? Had everything he'd done, all his interactions with her and the Doctor been merely him being the selfless friend, hiding his true feelings for her? Knowing Tom, it was entirely possible that he wanted her more than anything and that the whole sister ruse was to stop her suspecting. In which case, he had been lying to her the entire time and very convincingly, so that she would be happy. Happy with the Doctor. And he could have put himself through that for her. But equally, there was nothing to suggest that he had meant anything other than what she already knew. That he loved her as a friend, a confidante, as a person, as a sister. Clara shook her head. She supposed she'd never know. And it didn't matter anyway. He was gone._

_The Doctor would be home soon. Clara was almost there, she had almost made it. She had spent so much of the previous week and five days crying. Letting floods of tears pour. And equally, she had held it together remarkably well. It had been nothing short of hell, an emotional turmoil the likes of which she had thought that she'd long left behind. But she knew that she could cope. She could handle anything that life could throw at her now. She was damaged goods and she had been for a very long time. But, for the first time since her mother died, she didn't feel like it. She felt strong. She felt like there was hope. Of course, she could never be the person she was today without the Doctor and she still needed him. She still would need him, every day for the rest of her life. But this was her crucible. And finally, it was over. Clara would be alright. Clara Oswald would heal._

* * *

The funeral was a horrible affair. Clara had thought that she was prepared for it emotionally but waves of pain and anger washed over her and she cried almost as hard as she had in a cemetery so very long ago. The Doctor was there for her of course and that made things so much better, but it was, as Clara had expected, one of the worst days of her life and probably the worst since Tom's death. She was beyond glad when it was over. She was asked to say a few words. She wanted nothing less in the entire world but felt it was appropriate nevertheless. She had to, for him.

"Tom was my friend," she began and laughed at that, earning her a lot of strange looks. "I'm sorry," Clara sniffed. "It's just, after everything that we went through, it all boils down to: he was my friend. As if those four words could possibly capture the essence of our friendship. Tom was one of the best people I knew. He was funny, but not half as funny as he liked to think he was. He was handsome, probably twice as handsome as he thought he was. And he was kind. Above everything else, Tom cared for me. When we met, I was a mess, sitting alone at the front of a lecture theatre and he came and sat down next to me and looked after me. And he would do it for anyone. He was so much more than he appeared and he was trustworthy. I felt like he would take my secrets to the grave. I guess he did," Clara sobbed, letting the tears flow and her voice choke. "Above all else, Tom was brave. He threw himself into so many crazy situations for others, with no regard for his own safety. He…" Clara couldn't stop herself as she bawled. "He died to save me. He died because he couldn't let me get run down. He died because in that instance, he didn't think about himself or what would happen, he just acted. Out of bravery and selflessness and that is everything you could ever say about Tom. All in one. He was truly, a hero."

And then Clara broke down, and ran into the Doctor's arms.

* * *

***Hello again. The way I saw this chapter, there were two ways to go. Clara's character could completely self-destruct. Or she could endure and come out the other side a better person. I went for the latter, because when I set out writing this, my end goal was that Clara would be healed. I didn't want her to end the story as damaged as she started it and I feel that it would take an event like losing Tom to enable that. I also needed her to cope without the Doctor, because this story has been as much as Clara developing of her own accord than it is about having the Doctor rescue her. I really hope this chapter has worked well, because in truth, the entire story hinges on it. Once again, thanks for reading. TPD***


	34. Chapter 34: Defining The Parameters

***I'VE DONE IT! Hello loyal readers, avid followers. I have finished Damaged. Clocking in at 125,634 words it is the longest fic I have ever written and only the second to break 100,000. There are only 3 more chapters after this one and they're all along the same vein. I've tried to ensure that the end of this story is focused 100% on the relationship between the Doctor and Clara. There is still a bit of plot to mop up, mainly to do with the Wedding between Dave and Bitch-Face which is where the concluding chapters take place. But I've made the plot behind it secondary to the whouffle which is being thrust front and centre. Over the next four chapters (including this one) except lots of fluff, lots of smut and lots of emotional moments. I had an idea what I wanted the final scene to be a long time ago and I'm glad that I managed to get it done and I'm very happy with it. Now, the sequel. HEALING. That will be it's name. It will be set 5 years after the end of this story and will feature the Doctor being whatever the Doctor is now and Clara will be a teacher (eagle-eyed readers may have worked out why she becomes a teacher as there is a subtle hint in this story). The likes of Jack, Annabelle Ten, Martha, Paternoster Gang, Mandy (Bitch-Face) and Dave will all return. BUT crucially, I am elevating the Ponds to main character status. So MUCH more Amy and much more Rory. I know where it's starting off and I can reveal there will be some really big, life changing events occurring. So, as ever, thank you so so much for reading, thank you for those of you who have favourited and followed and a special thanks to those that take the time to review, it makes my day. Please, keep on reviewing and letting me know what you think of this story, every chapter is important and I hope I haven't slipped on the final hurdle. TPD***

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Stress was going to be the way Clara Oswald died. She knew it. It was May. Her exams started in a matter of weeks, way sooner than she needed them to be. In two weeks, the Doctor would finish his job and pitch up to distract her further, and then a week after that, exams began. And as soon as that hell was over and done with, she had the wedding to deal with. Her father had been more than understanding in the weeks following Tom's death, but even now he was getting increasingly frantic. Clara was being torn in three different directions, between her increasingly erratic father, her torrent of revision and the love of her life. Of course, the Doctor was being a fucking saint about the whole thing. He offered to stay in London until the entire thing was over but Clara put an end to that idea before it even got off the ground. She wanted him exactly where she could see him, so that he was by her side. She knew that she'd find him distracting, but he made her happier simply by being nearby. Clara hadn't been happy much at all without him around. It was the combination of losing Tom, her father's stresses and all her work. At least Annabelle had moved back in, both to share in comfort with Clara and to focus on revision but it transpired that the two girls found themselves unable to really talk about anything regarding Tom or the Doctor. Annabelle was still weary of him, especially after his disappearing act in America. Clara meant what she'd said; she didn't blame him for that in the slightest.

It was the weekend before the Doctor returned permanently and he was in joyous spirits as he vaulted the sofa to snuggle in beside Clara. She had her face poured over a book by T.S. Elliot and she was muttering curse words, so the Doctor wrapped his arm around her, sliding her a mug of tea and snatching the book away from her.

"Give me that back!" Clara protested, staring at him with red, wide, bagged eyes and a pitiful look on her face. "I need it. I'm almost finished this section…"

"Clara," the Doctor said kindly and she pouted at him, knowing she was about to get a lecture. "You've been working on this for hours; you need to take a break or you'll get nowhere, nothing will go in. Now, I suggest we settle down, watch Finding Nemo and then you get some sleep and start fresh tomorrow morning." Clara was still lunging for the book, which the Doctor held just out of her grasp. "Do we have a deal Clara?"

"Yes," Clara snapped. "Fine, whatever, just give me the book! We can watch Finding Nemo when I've finished this section, it'll take ten minutes!"

Forty minutes later, Clara eventually threw down Elliot and turned to the Doctor triumphantly. He did not look impressed. She shrugged nonchalantly and snuggled up to him as he put the film on. Clara loved these moments, these insanely tranquil moments where it felt as if it was just her and the Doctor and nothing in the world could go wrong. She loved it when he kissed the top of her head, when he called her: "His Clara." She loved the feel of his hot breath on her cheek, the beating of his heart with hers. The way his arms rubbed gently against her as he moved his hands in concentric circles around her waist. She loved the way their legs intertwined and she loved the warmth he radiated. In moments, hours like these, the world felt perfect and nothing had to end. Then, her phone rang. She wanted to scream, but settled for a groan as she untangled herself from an evidently dejected Doctor, who pouted and crossed his arms in irritation as she answered.

"Hi dad!" she said in the sweetest voice she could, with all the enthusiasm that she could muster. "What is it this time?"

It turned out that Bitch-Face was having yet another crisis, this time over flowers and could Clara possibly talk to her, help her get through it. And of course, being Chief Bridesmaid, Clara would be more than happy to help, anything to ensure that things ran smoothly for her father. Clara mimed shooting herself in the head to the Doctor as she paced the room, trying hard to talk to a nonsensical bride, who was getting increasingly agitated over the course of the conversation. Clara spent nearly an hour calming the agitated Mandy, before eventually getting free of her, only for her dad to want to talk for almost as long about the final three selections for the bridesmaid dresses. Clara wanted to burn all of them in that moment. In truth, none of them were horrific. One of them was a dark green but Clara thought it made the girls look like bushes and made her look frumpy, which was a bad look when she was short. One was a very pale pink, which worked well with a couple of the bridesmaids darker skin tones, but Clara felt clashed horribly with her paler complexion. Bitch-Face had suggested a spray tan, to darken Clara up. Clara had threatened to hit her with a frying pan. Her dad told Clara it was a fantastic idea and that she would do it if they chose that dress. She did hit him with a frying pan. The third and final dress was a deep crimson that Clara adored but that Bitch-Face thought was a little too bright. Clara was keen to point out that the style they had gone for fitted all the bridesmaids the best and that the colour would be nothing compared to the dazzling white of Bitch-Face's dress. Her father remained unconvinced. After finally shaking off all the wedding talk, Clara settled back down to finish watching Finding Nemo. She didn't even manage twenty minutes, because she was so exhausted that she fell asleep in the Doctor's arms.

The next day proved even less romantically inviting. Clara spent most of it huddled in books, desperately yelling when a fictional character broke their type and completely buggered all their character development and with it, her essay. She hurled her copy of Jane Eyre at a wall, nearly decapitating the Doctor, who was just stepping through the doorway. He squealed like a little girl, which at least gave Clara a small smile before she had to collect the book and delve back into completely restructuring her prospective argument. Another few hours of that and the Doctor decided to take her out to dinner. Clara wasn't really feeling like it, but she felt unbelievably guilty that she'd dragged him all the way up here for the weekend and couldn't even spare an hour and a half for a real meal with her boyfriend. He would never say that he felt bad of course and he'd insist that she put herself first, but she did wonder if it was putting a strain on their relationship.

They hadn't really moved anywhere, she realised. The last six months, their relationship had been clinging to a precipice, holding onto each other for dear life with no idea what they were doing or even if they could do it. They had limited time together and what time they had, they used wisely. But Clara would be lying if she said that she didn't secretly miss elements of the way things had been before. She missed spending every day with him, just relaxing, watching films, ordering pizza, making breakfast. She hated the fact that they were apart so much and that when they were together, they were either being passionate or struggling with some big emotional deal. She missed their friendship. The Doctor was her boyfriend, her whole world in many respects, but she missed the way they used to be best friends. She supposed that was more because of their lives than their relationship but it bothered her. And since Tom had died, she'd felt more alone than ever. She missed having that presence in her life, that she could just walk to and see whenever she needed it. Annabelle was a ghost of her former self, either talking about English or ignoring all emotion. She missed the Doctor. They hadn't talked about Tom much. She sensed it was a brutal topic and he was avoiding it. She knew that when he was back, everything would change. After the exams, after the wedding, they would have to sit down and redefine their relationship, because this state of existence that they had at the moment was good, but it wasn't making Clara happy. Something had to change and that something wouldn't be a break up, she was certain of that. They had always known that though. They had known that what had been happening over the last six months was a temporary measure, until they could sort something more sustainable out.

Dinner felt different. The Doctor was on edge, Clara could sense it. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. She felt his moods, the same way that he felt hers. He was nervous, but she wasn't sure in what way. She had butterflies in her own stomach. The fact that he was nervous made her nervous and she didn't like it.

"Clara," the Doctor was saying, and she snapped to attention. "I didn't just ask you here to go to dinner. I thought we needed to talk." Well it appeared she wasn't the only one who had been toying around with the idea of it then. She found herself drawn into him, and they were not far apart across the table. He took a deep breath and cricked his neck. Get on with, Clara wanted to yell. The tension was killing her. "I think we need to redefine the parameters of our relationship. That is to say, we need to discuss what's going to happen, after I leave my job and my apartment. Well, I'm not leaving my job, I'm merely relocating, as per the terms of the very complicated contract I'm making them sign in order to keep hold of my services. The point is: we need to decide what's going to happen."

"What do you want to happen?" Clara asked carefully, watching his face. He licked his lips, he was clearly weighing up every single word he said carefully, as if one wrong slip would get him killed. He wasn't too far from the truth. You could have cut the tension between them with a knife.

"Well, I was thinking," the Doctor shifted uncomfortably. "That is to say, I have made a decision."

"Oh have you now?" Clara felt her lips twinge into a smirk. "And do I get a say in this decision?"

"Well yes," the Doctor went pale and Clara suspected she shouldn't have teased him. "I mean I'm not forcing you into anything Clara, I just want to do what is best for both of us. You said that Annabelle is moving back home for her final year?"

"Yes," Clara wasn't happy about it, but Annabelle's parents had convinced her to return home. They'd been able to rustle up a rent agreement that suited both parties and left Annabelle feeling a lot less resentful towards them. Plus, with her mum's physical therapy stepping up, Annabelle wanted to be around as much as possible. "I need somewhere to live next year." She left it deliberately ambiguous. She and the Doctor had always assumed that they would just move in together, especially considering money wasn't an object.

"Well I found a place," the Doctor said quietly and Clara raised an eyebrow. That was unexpected. "I found a nice, small little flat, with a master bedroom, a guest bedroom in case people come to stay, a cosy little living room and adjoining kitchen. The bathroom is up to standard. I wanted to surprise you. I mean, if you don't want to…"

"Of course I do, you fucking numpty!" Clara grinned. "I just thought we were going to sort one out together. But if you've already done it…"

"There's more," the Doctor took a deep breath and Clara felt hers hitch in her throat. Was he about to propose? A million thoughts ran through her head. Did she want him to propose? Or was she like Amy, who didn't know what she wanted or when she wanted it and would blow a casket if he tried? "Clara, I want to sell my house." Panic averted. But even so, this was major. Clara's eyebrows furrowed. Was he about to suggest what she thought he was about to suggest. "I mean, there's way too much history for me there, not much of it good. I want a fresh start, with you in my life. So when you finish your last year and the contract on the place here runs out…"

"You want to buy a house together?" Clara finished, her eyelids heavy as tears pattered onto the table beneath her.

"Well," the Doctor's hands were flapping about like mad now. "If we're still together, I mean I'd like to have a place that we could call, home. Our own. I mean, if you want we can move up to Blackpool, or down to London, I mean it's whatever you want Clara. I don't care, I mean I do care, of course I care. I love you and I want to move in. Properly move in. And I know it may seem stupidly fast, but it feels like you've been with me for the whole of my life. Well, all of my life that matters anyway and that's good enough for me. I can't imagine my life without you Clara. Plus, if you add another 12 months into the occasion…"

"Yes you idiot," Clara whispered, so quietly she almost went to say it again but his face told her that he'd heard her. "Of course I want to live with you, you great big stupid…" She'd started crying properly now and leant across the table to bury her head into his shoulders. He patted her, smiling awkwardly at the waiter who was giving them an odd look and the 'aww's from an old couple a few tables across. The moment between them seemed to Clara to last a lifetime but in reality, it was only a few seconds. Then Clara sat back, clearing her throat to clear the air and dabbing at her face with her napkin. They shared 'I love you's and then their food arrived.

* * *

That evening, when the Doctor got on the train to go home, Clara didn't feel alone. She felt as if everything was going to come together. Her dad called her and she cut him off before he could start to bitch about anything wedding related, gushing down the phone at him, mentally preparing herself for the backlash. But, although he struggled to keep the disappointment out of his voice, her father didn't chastise her. He told her how happy he was for her and how all he wanted in the world was to see his daughter happy. That meant the world to Clara and she spent the rest of the evening on an adrenaline high. It was only when she told Annabelle that she crashed. Annabelle was pleased for her, but the other girl burst into floods of uncontrollable tears and Clara sat beside her, comforting her. It was one of the only times in the weeks that followed where they talked about Tom. Clara apologised for what seemed like the millionth time and Annabelle told her that it wasn't her fault for what seemed like the millionth time.

They talked for a long time, about everything. About Tom, about how much they missed him. They talked about the Doctor and about how Annabelle could never forgive him for some of the things he had done to Clara, even though Clara herself had long since stopped being angry about them. It was easier for Annabelle, Clara supposed, to stay angry. She didn't love the Doctor, so she could look at the objective picture, assess his mistakes. They talked about family. Clara talked for what seemed like an eternity about her dad and all the mistakes that he'd made and how despite everything it meant so much to her that he was still there for her, even if he wasn't very good at it. And Annabelle went on about how relieved she was to have patched things up with her mum and dad and how in truth, she had never wanted to leave home in the first place, which was entirely why she went to this specific university in the first place.

Annabelle offered to dye Clara's hair for her, get it back to its natural colour and Clara agreed, as she was getting sick of trying to prove Tom wrong. He'd been right of course; she suited the scraggly blonde look about as well as a shark suited dry land. The end result was slightly darker than Clara had been hoping for, but at least she wasn't ginger she supposed. The Doctor would have loved that, she thought. He was always complaining about how he wasn't ginger. Clara was never letting him go to Boots alone.

The last week of freedom, was what Annabelle referred to it as. The final five days without the Doctor. Annabelle was determined to make the most of them, but any grand plans they had were swiftly halted by their escalating workloads. They did go out on the Monday night but they ended up not drinking that much, as they needed Tuesday to be a productive day. Amy Pond dropped by on Wednesday, in the middle of an exam cramming session to ask Clara's advice. She'd been in regular contact with Clara since the engagement and she and Rory were apparently better than ever. Clara was glad to hear it and shared her news of her and the Doctor potentially moving in together after she left uni. It seemed weird to say out loud. The Doctor wanted to buy Clara a house. She often forgot how stupidly rich he was. Though selling his current house would be enough to buy him a sweet little place in the rich part of London, Clara decided. She was excited, nervous and elated at the same time. That feeling kept creeping up on her throughout the week, supplemented by copious amounts of screaming in frustration, the throwing of books against walls and hair yanking. Clara was ready to give up the whole university thing by the time the week was over. Then, just when she'd reached the end of her tether, it was Saturday and there was a knock at the door. She raced over to it and threw it open to see the Doctor, standing there on the doorstep, with all his bags and a broad grin on his face.

"Aha! Miss me?"

God she had.


	35. Chapter 35: One Last Forever

***Hello peeps. Long day, I'm in a foul mood so let's get down to business. This Chapter will take us close to the end, with only two more to come and the whole point of this one is the transition through the exam period and one final moment for the Doctor and Clara before they're thrown into the chaos of wedding prep. I hope you guys enjoy it. Quick sequel talk. I have a plan of sorts. It will kill you. I mean break your souls so apologies for that. I have in fact started writing but i don't know how long it will be before I can get it up. I want a 6/7 chapter headstart before I start posting so probably at least a week after this finishes, I'll be as quick as I can. As ever, thank you so much for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting. Please please review because every chapter is crucial at this stage and feedback is appreciated. Lots of love, The Potter Doctor.***

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Clara was literally snowed under with all the work that she had to do. The Doctor had pointed out that she wasn't literally snowed under, at which point she had thrown her book at him and laughed when it bounced off his big chin. She hated English more than ever in those few weeks and it was telling that the Doctor was never more than a few feet away from her, bringing her tea and biscuits and cooking her meals. He gave her massages, did all the housework and was basically her domestic God as she screamed agitatedly at her own writing. Clara stressed over every exam and it was her third one where she finally lost it and started screaming at her father down the phone that she couldn't fucking help him decide on a flower arrangement because Shakespeare was rearranging her brain to the point where she was half tempted to pull a Romeo and Juliet style double suicide with the Doctor and to stop fucking calling her because she had three exams in the next four days and she was close to googling how to build a bomb and blowing up the university. He hadn't called again after that. The Doctor was tiptoeing around Clara, desperate not to let her explode. He was trying every trick in the book to calm her but it wasn't working.

It turned out that Clara had a breaking point. Two hours before her fifth exam, she was staring at a piece of work and then the Doctor heard her mutter: "Tom would know this shit." He bit his lip and she looked up at him, tears swirling in her eyes. "I miss Tom. So much." She dropped the laptop and threw herself into his arms, as he moved forwards to embrace her halfway. He wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed and then he had a look at her work to see if he understood any of it. Annabelle eventually made some sense of it, but it was clear that Clara was upset by more than just English.

And then, just when it looked like Clara's own personal hell was never going to end, it ended. She was finished. She had handed in all her essays; she'd done all of her exams. She stepped out of her final exam on May 30th and she felt free. Free to be with the Doctor. One part of her tripartite had gone, leaving her only a couple of weeks to deal with her father's wedding before she had the entire summer to spend with the Doctor. They were off up to Blackpool the next morning, which left Clara one night with her boyfriend before they were separated again. Her father had made it abundantly clear that the Doctor would not be saying in Clara's room while they were there. Far cry from the last time he had stayed over. But then everything had changed between them. Their entire relationship was so fundamentally different. And so much more beautiful.

When she got home, he was waiting for her, a smile on his face and a warm mug of tea in his hand. She kissed him and their hands wrapped around each other, the moment of intensity between them leaving the tea on the coffee table completely forgotten. Her hands were in his hair, tugging at it, playing with it and his own hands were wrapped around her, pulling her in closer. They slipped under her cardigan and shirt, raking down her bare back. Clara let out a gasp and started pushing against the Doctor, forcing him backwards into the bedroom. His hands were entangled in her hair now, her own had found his trousers and she frantically unzipped him. Their kiss broke and he went for her neck. It was savage, almost visceral, but it felt so good. The release of tension within Clara was palatable. It had been so long since the Doctor had given her a real moment of passion, so she embraced it with every fibre of her being. She nibbled on his chin and then she shoved him over backwards onto the bed. She climbed on top of him, ripping off his shirt and throwing her own cardigan to the wayside.

She was riding him now, grinding against his body and he gasped in longing. She ran her finger down his bare chest and then kissed him once before taking her hands to him. She felt him unclip her bra and dispense with both it and her shirt. She leant over, brushing her nipples against his. He moved to suckle them and Clara let out a throaty moan. She gasped in joy and removed his trousers, her own hands working in tandem with his as they had slipped down her jeans. He rolled over, forcing himself on top of her so Clara was on the bottom. She kicked off her jeans and he tore at her lace, trying to get rid of it.

"Doctor," Clara whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replied breathlessly. "My Clara." He pressed himself against her and Clara felt herself tremble. It felt so good to be with him again. In every sense of the word. She groaned, biting at his lips, their kiss matching the intensity of the rhythm that the Doctor was making. Clara's teeth were ripping into him, she wasn't sure but she thought she could taste blood so she stopped. He breathed into her and she felt shockwaves rush through her. She was shaking, the pleasure too much for her. Clara screamed his name and he let out a gushing roar of hers. He rolled off of her and gasped, his breath short. Clara was hot and sweaty, she swept her hair off her forehead. His lip was bleeding, but only slightly and she kissed his cheek apologetically. Her back was aching and she rolled onto her side, the Doctor gasping as he realised the gouging marks he'd left behind. She blushed and shrugged as he kissed her back apologetically.

"I guess we got a bit too into it," Clara breathed, unable to stop the grin from exploding onto her face.

"No such thing," the Doctor laughed. "How did the exam go?"

"Fine," Clara replied. "Get anything done while I was gone?"

"Oh you know," the Doctor shrugged. "Fixed the flow problem we've been having, started drawing out designs for the second generation sonic. Nothing major. I spoke to Jack Harkness as well. He's the American who I mentioned, he's over here for some work and he wanted to go for a drink. I told him I had to stay in and take care of you. He's going to be in London for a few months though, so I'll go and see him at some point after the wedding. Oh and Ten knocked, he was looking for you. Something about Martha, he was rambling. Oh look at that, I'm rambling."

"You're a rambler," Clara replied, nuzzling his chin with her nose. "It's what you do. It's one of the reasons I fall in love with you every day."

"Every day?" the Doctor smirked.

"Twice on Saturdays."

"That's better."

* * *

The Doctor had told her that they were celebrating and that there was nothing that Clara could do to stop it. Clara didn't want to stop it in all honesty. They went out to a fancy restaurant and Clara wore a beautiful red dress, the same one she'd almost worn on the night that Jessie broke up with her. So very long ago. The Doctor bought a bottle of champagne and stupidly expensive food but it was delicious and Clara loved how the Doctor ate his burger with his bare hands, ignoring the looks of disgust he was getting for his sloppy table manners. She giggled as he tried to lick ketchup off of his chin and then she did it for him, earning an audible groan from a nearby couple.

After dinner, they stopped off at the off-licence on the way home and picked up a bottle of wine to share that evening. They watched The Notebook and the Doctor cried like a baby, which Clara found adorable. They cuddled up on the sofa, interrupted only once by Annabelle who quickly asked Clara how her exam went. Annabelle's last exam had been two days prior and she had been in a perpetual state of drunk ever since. She had had men over both nights and seemingly regretted nothing. Clara was worried about her, she still was struggling to deal with losing Tom. Maybe going home was the best thing for her, Clara mused. Being around her family would not only cushion the blow but give her a group of people to look after her and keep an eye on her. Clara felt like a bad friend for not doing more, but she had been so wrapped up in things over the last few weeks that there was very little time to even think about herself, let alone others. She knew there would come a time, probably when the wedding was over, that she'd visit Tom's grave and sob her eyes out. There were still moments when she expected him to burst through her front door, complaining about his one night stands or demanding that Clara show him where the Doctor's secret cigarette stash was, despite Clara repeatedly telling him that the Doctor didn't have one. She had texted him three times, before remembering that he'd never reply and one time she'd asked Annabelle if they should invite Tom on a night out. Annabelle had cried and Clara had kicked herself.

After the Notebook, Clara curled up in the Doctor's arms. He played with her hair subconsciously and she felt complete. They had no intention of doing anything and they didn't need to. It felt like they were one and Clara couldn't wait to spend the entire summer just doing this. Lying with her Doctor and not needing anything else. They'd make each other breakfast, order endless takeaways, cuddle up and watch trashy films. Clara had ogled at Channing Tatum and the Doctor had been grumbling about it for a solid twenty minutes. She loved that about him. She loved his little rambles about how she should appreciate him a lot more because he didn't have fantastic abs like Channing Tatum and yet he could still make Clara swoon. Clara interrupted to tell him that he had never made her swoon and this send him off on a very long tangent. She eventually shut him up with a kiss and then slipped back down into his arms. The Doctor smiled at her and her heart melted. She wanted that night to last forever. Their last and only night.

_The Doctor had picked the film. They were sat down on his bed, close in proximity but not quite touching. His face was covered in tomato sauce from his terrible eating habits but Clara found that endearing as she nibbled on her pepperoni pizza, sprinkled with cheddar and mozzarella. His meat feast was more on his face than in his mouth and some of it spilled onto his bed sheets, which earned Clara a rare sound as the Doctor swore, fumbling for a napkin to clean it up. _

_"Let me!" Clara grinned exasperatedly, shaking her head as she took the napkin from him. Their hands touched briefly and Clara felt a flutter. She ignored it. She and the Doctor were friends, nothing more. They'd only known each a couple of months, but his easy going style and friendly nature made him very likeable and they'd quickly developed a rapport. She wiped up the sauce and hurled the napkin towards the Doctor's already very full bin. "Why do you never empty that thing?" she asked him, the teasing tone mixed with the ever present exasperation. He shrugged at this and when he replied, she had to hide her giggling at the food that spilled out of his mouth._

_"Because I keep forgetting! Besides there's space for more stuff in there, you just have to aim better!"_

"I have to aim better?" Clara raised an eyebrow incredulously. "I can't fucking believe the hypocrisy of you Doctor! As those stains on the walls will testify, your aim is dreadful." The Doctor was already stammering to protest his innocence. "Just put the film on Chin-Boy!"

_Looking back, that night was the night that the Doctor first realised he was in love with Clara Oswald. _

Clara took a deep breath. The Doctor squeezed her hand gently and she smiled at him appreciatively. Their last night of freedom was over. Their one last forever. It was time to face the real world. As Clara knocked, she knew that any peace and quiet they'd had was over, as the door crashed open and Mandy pulled Clara into a hug that left Clara stiff as a board. She swooped to kiss the Doctor's cheek and he smiled, abashed.

"Thank goodness you're finally here Clara!" she gushed, guiding them inside, the Doctor frantically wiping lipstick from his cheek as Clara's eyes lingered on it for a moment. They had narrowed to slits. "Dave's at a meeting with the caterer, final checks and all that. Doctor, why don't you go and throw all your things into the spare room while Clara and I start going over some wedding preparations?"

"Already?" Clara couldn't hide her dismay at this and the Doctor touched her shoulder affectionately. "I just got here, can't I at least unpack?"

"No time dear!" Mandy laughed, dragging Clara along behind her and signalling for the Doctor to hurry along. The Doctor grabbed Clara's things alongside his own and trudged off upstairs. Clara shot a wistful look after him. She would have given anything to be him, able to escape Mandy's clutches. "Right, so first off, bridesmaids dresses. We're going with the pale pink. I know you wanted the red but I'm sure a little spray tan will fix you right in. Dave got you scheduled in for tomorrow morning."

"It's my body," Clara protested. It was bad enough she had to wear the pink. "And I am not getting a spray tan. End of."

"Oh honey, could you do this for me?" Mandy pouted. "For your dad?"

Clara bit her lip and held her tongue. She looked around and was happy to see that anything sharp had been removed from sight. She was eternally grateful that her father's foresight had improved. Her hands were gripped tightly around the edges of the chairs. She was silently praying for the Doctor to return and sure enough, moments later, he came clattering down the stairs. His bow tie was askew and Clara had an overwhelming urge to straighten it. She was about to get to her feet but once again, Mandy had beaten her to the punch.

"Ah Doctor, good. Can you nip to Annie's? She's holding some stuff for me, she'll be expecting you. Here's the address, I'm sure you can find it using your maps on your phone. Also, can you pick us all up some food on the way home? But it has to be salad, all healthy. We're not eating any junk food until after the wedding, or some people might not fit into their dresses." She pinched Clara's cheeks and Clara felt overwhelming insecure. She knew her cheeks were chubby and it bothered her from time to time, but being with the Doctor had removed most of her insecurities, at least on the surface. She could see him visibly stiffen and he was clearly annoyed. Maybe the fat comment had angered him more than it had her, which was saying something.

"Sure," he replied through gritted teeth. His usual carefree attitude had almost completely dissolved. "No problem. I'll be back as soon as I can Clara," he said, her eyes clearly betraying the fact that she would give her first born to switch places with him.

"Take your time honey," Mandy waved a hand. "We've got a lot to get through. So, the spray tan…"

* * *

It was several, agonising hours before Clara could escape Mandy's clutches. Most of the wedding talk was at worst mundane and Clara ended up smiling and nodding a lot. She hoped that she'd won Mandy over on the spray tan argument but realised that continuing to gun for the red dress for the bridesmaids was a lost cause. The Doctor pitched eventually with healthy food and Clara forced herself to eat a few carrots and some lettuce. He squeezed her hand under the table which she appreciated more than anything, but that was as close as they could be in front of Bitch-Face, who had earned her nickname back in Clara's mind.

When Dave returned, Mandy's sickly sweet act got even sicklier and even sweeter and it made Clara want to gag. It was a sick, twisted reflection of the relationship her parents had shared. Her mother had always been the kindest person Clara knew and her relationship with Dave had been so natural and so perfect. This felt forced, horribly so and it was changing her father. Not that he had ever been the same since he lost his wife anyway, but things were definitely going downhill. Clara hated it and she wanted more than anything for the Doctor to do something. She didn't know what, but something would have been nice. But there was nothing he could do. Her father was marrying Bitch-Face in 9 days and as much as Clara hated the whole mess, the Doctor couldn't fix everything.

That night, Clara waited until her dad was in bed before sneaking out of her bedroom and into the Doctor's. She knew her dad would hit the roof if he found out, but Clara was way beyond caring. She had had to endure hours of dealing with Bitch-Face, she needed her boyfriend. She crept in silently, the Doctor had a bedside light on and his face lit up when the door slipped open. Clara silently crossed the room, a grin on her own face and she crawled into bed beside him.

"Hello stranger," the Doctor whispered. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I'm going to kill her," Clara hissed back. "I am actually, properly going to commit homicide. I can't handle it. I can't handle her. I can't handle this whole fucking mess. I miss the way things were, back when mum was alive. I miss it being me, dad and mum. He's changed so much and I hate who he's becoming." Her words were increasingly strained and the tears were falling now. "I know she'd want him to be happy, but I kind of hope she isn't watching, because I think she'd hate who he was becoming. And I don't know what she'd think of me…"

"She'd love you Clara," the Doctor replied, his voice almost inaudible but it still stopped her in her tracks. "Just like I do. She'd think that you are the most beautiful, wonderful, generous and intelligent young woman in the world. And she would be so very proud of you. Because that's what I think. And if your mum is half the person you say she is, then she wouldn't fail to agree with me. Because look at you. If she's anything like you, then she would be so proud. She'd be sad she couldn't be with you but she'd be glad that I am."

"I love you so much," Clara breathed. "You find ways to cheer me up when I don't think it's possible to be cheered up. You make my life liveable. You find ways to make even things like Bitch-Face and exams bearable, just by being around. Never ever leave my side, Doctor."

"You've never called me John," he said curiously. "That's my real name, after all."

"Your name doesn't matter," Clara replied. "It never has. Not to me anyway. To me, you are the Doctor. That's the name you chose, that's the name you've earned. It's all the name that you need, everything you need to know about you. To me, you've never ever been John Smith, that name has no meaning to me. It has no heart. You are and always have been the Doctor to me."

"You're amazing Clara," he smiled. "Truly, properly amazing. Never leave my side either."

And in that moment, Clara Oswald promised, both to him and to herself, that she would never ever leave the Doctor's side. And then, she left the Doctor's side as her dad threw open the door, muttering curse words and Clara scooted off to her own room, listening to her father berate her all the while.


	36. Chapter 36: The In-Laws

***Hello one and all! Early update today because I'm feeling super nice :P Can you feel it in the air? There's a wedding coming. Specifically, a bitchy wedding. In this chapter, I really wanted to explore Clara's relationship with both her father and Bitch-Face a bit more, but there's also quite a bit of Whouffle in here to keep you guys ticking over. Tomorrow's final chapter is a Whouffle-fest so I really hope you guys love both it and this one. Healing is going better than planned, I've already written two chapters and in the first chapter alone we have a brand new character POV, someone getting punched in the face and the Doctor doing something he does in Time of the Doctor. I'll aim to give you guys not much longer than a weeks wait for it but it all depends how quickly I race through it. Also, it's derby day tonight, so I doubt I'll achieve anything. As ever, thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited and please please review, the back stages of this story mean the world to me and I'm really hoping that you guys feel I ended it properly so let me know. Love, The Potter Doctor***

* * *

The next week was almost as bad as the weeks leading up to it. Only rather than going insane over English, Clara was being driven mental by wedding nonsense. Her father and Mandy were constantly arguing over little things, either with Clara or each other. Every dress fitting, every stabbing comment from Bitch-Face, every meeting with stupid people who had stupid ideas that Dave and Mandy gushed over, it was endless. What was worse was that her father seemed to have a vendetta against the Doctor for their first night indiscretion that Clara wished with all her heart had actually been an indiscretion. She felt like she was trapped in the romance of a novel, as they grappled for moments in their crazy lives where they could be together, shooting furtive glances across the room and so forth. The whole thing was ludicrous, as the Doctor was sent on errands for hours at a time, Clara was dragged to here there and everywhere and they were constantly split up. It was childish, Clara told her father but he refused to acknowledge that he was doing anything. She wasn't pining for the Doctor, but she was angry and it was irritating that she was spending at most an hour with her boyfriend a day and that the entire time, her father or soon to be step-Bitch were within the vicinity, looking down on them. She couldn't eat properly either. Everything was healthy and left Clara empty and desperate for a pizza or a cake. She hadn't been allowed to bake a single soufflé. The Doctor had slipped her a burger on the fourth day, which she was eternally grateful for but Bitch-Face had caught her halfway through eating it and disposed of what was left. Clara wanted to scream.

The worst thing was the constant barrage of self-esteem destroying comments. They were small, niggling, not intentional Clara was sure of that. But it was clear that her every flaw was being exposed on a daily basis. It was at its worst when dress shopping. Clara's proportions were all wrong. Clara was much too short. Clara wasn't quite thin enough. Clara had chubby cheeks. Clara's breasts could be bigger. Clara's hair was too dark. Clara's skin wasn't dark enough (Bitch-Face had taken to saying the phrase: "Isn't she pale?" at least two or three times a day). Clara was sick of the comments, sick of the sweet voice in which they were said. They weren't even flat out insults, they were thinly veiled, as if Clara was being difficult.

"It's all her mother's fault," Bitch-Face said three days before the wedding to a dress designer as Clara stood, being poked and prodded by an old man and wishing that the Doctor was there. "According to Dave, she looks just like her. Too short, too frumpy, wrong dimensions. I blame the mother, clearly her genes weren't up to scratch…"

That was it. Clara snapped. She had had enough. It was bad enough that she was separated constantly from the Doctor, having a take a torrent of abuse from the woman who was corrupting her father's very soul but Bitch-Face had taken it one step too far. She had insulted Clara's mother. And that was too far. Clara lunged for her, punching Bitch-Face in her bitchy face, the blow sending her staggering and Clara went to attack her further but the man restrained her, telling her to calm down.

"You can say whatever the fuck you want about me, you hideous, rat-haired, conniving bitch, but if you ever say a bad word about my mother ever again, I will personally turn your stupid, bitchy face into a bloody, bitchy pulp, are we clear? Because she is not only ten times the woman you are, but she was the most beautiful person in the world. It's bad enough that you're turning my dad into something disgusting, but I will not let you taint her memory too." Bitch-Face stood there, looking at Clara in shock. And then she did something that Clara did not expect. She nodded.

"You're right," she replied, the sickly sweet element of her voice had evaporated and she sounded normal, almost sincere. "Clara, I am so sorry. That was horrible and insensitive. I know this may be hard to believe, but I envy your mother so much. She was such a good thing for your father that losing her completely crippled him. He talks about her all the time and you have no idea how that feels. I love your father and he loves me, but I can tell that he loves you and her more than that. Maybe that's why I've been such a bitch to you, or maybe I'm just a terrible person. But either way, I'm sorry. What I said was inexcusable. And I'll have a word with your dad about the Doctor, he's just being stubborn because the idea of his baby girl having sex scares the life out of him."

Clara was speechless. Truly and utterly speechless. Never, in her wildest dreams had she imagined that Mandy had a heart. She had always taken such a dim view of her relationship with Dave, that it had never occurred to her just how much he must have said to her. He must have cried on her shoulder about Ellie for a long time and it must have broken his heart to see Clara being so hostile. Clara said the only thing she could think of.

"I'll get the spray tan," she said quietly. "For you and dad."

"No," Mandy replied, smiling. "You're beautiful just the way you are Clara."

Later that day, she saw the Doctor and when he asked her how everything had been that day, she turned to him and looked at him with complete shock in her voice. "I think me and Bitch-Face had a moment…"

* * *

With relations between Mandy and Clara thawing out, the last couple of days before the wedding were a lot more bearable. However, they were still a mad dash to the finish and by the time the rehearsal dinner had arrived, Clara actually felt a touch excited. She had the Doctor by her side as she sat away from the other bridesmaids, who were laughing and joking away. He smiled at her and she felt herself smile back, a tight smile under the gargantuan layer of makeup she was wearing. She normally hated to wear so much makeup, but Mandy had been so nice about it and Clara still felt a little guilty for punching her in the face less than a week before her wedding, even if she had deserved it.

"You look beautiful," the Doctor whispered.

"I look like an oompa loompa," she replied. "I'll be glad to be rid of all this foundation, I feel as though I'm wearing lead on my face."

The Doctor kissed her forehead and pulled a face, running his tongue between his teeth and gagging. "You taste funny!" he complained. "I don't like it."

"That'll be the makeup sweetie!" Clara teased, kissing his cheek and giving him a massive lipstick stain. Clara could feel her dad's eyes burrowing into the back of her head from her other side and she giggled before planting a long, hard kiss on the Doctor's lips, their cheeks rubbing against each other for a moment. The Doctor flailed a touch and Clara got off on the awkward stares they were getting. She was pretty sure Mandy was smiling though, which she appreciated. Her father would be murderous. She relinquished the Doctor's face, which was streaked with Clara's makeup and he looked dazed. She turned back to her father, whose eyes had narrowed to slits. She blinked her eyelids innocently and practised her best Bitch-Face sickly sweet smile. She heard Mandy laugh from Dave's other side.

"Oh lighten up Dave," his bride-to-be chastised. "Young love is such a beautiful thing, don't you think?"

"Not when it's my daughter," he muttered in reply. Clara turned back to the Doctor and straightened his bow tie.

"You really need to relax Dave," said Stuart, Dave's best man who was sat on the other side of the Doctor. "I've known Clara since she was born and I for one haven't seen this happy and carefree since she was a toddler. This Doctor bloke is good for her." Stuart clasped his hand on the Doctor's shoulder and Clara let out a small laugh. She locked eyes with Angie Maitland who was sat across the room and Angie shot her the smuggest grin known to mankind. Clara rolled her eyes and turned back to the Doctor, who hadn't taken his eyes off of her the entire time. She kissed him again, softly this time and he fed her a piece of chicken. She licked his fingers clean and at this point, she could hear the vein in her father's forehead throbbing. Stuart let out a chuckle, Angie pulled a face and Mandy giggled in a genuine way. She had a nice laugh, Clara decided.

The rest of the evening was very calm, very orderly and not at all what Clara had been expecting. She had thoroughly expected the rehearsal dinner to be a train wreck and in truth, she had almost wanted it to be. But she no longer resented Mandy the way she was supposed to and she was glad that she didn't. Like it or not, Mandy would be around for a long time. Clara had to get used to that and she had to learn to appreciate it as well. She couldn't avoid her father or develop a mind-set of seeing him being a drag. She loved her father and he had faults, but he loved her too. More than anything. That night, before she went to bed, he hugged her so tightly she thought she was going to burst and he kissed her forehead.

"I love you Clara," he told her and she knew it to be the truth. "More than anything. And I just want you to know, that more than anything, I'm glad that you're okay with tomorrow. If you say the word, I can still call this whole thing off."

She was shocked. She had never thought that her father valued her that much. She had expected that he'd be willing to drag her through the wedding, kicking and screaming if he had to. But the fact that he was okay with calling off his own wedding, the day before it, just because she'd asked him to, well that was something that she hadn't thought him capable of. She hugged him now, throwing herself into his chest. She loved him for that, more than ever. And she could never ask him to do it. Of course she couldn't. He was her father, he deserved to be happy. And after her mum had died, she had strongly suspected that neither of them would ever be happy again, so the fact that they both were would mean the world, not just to them but also to her mum, if she could see them.

"Dad," she said quietly. "I could never ask that of you. All I want is for you to be happy, if it's with Mandy or not. If Mandy makes you happy, then that makes me happy."

"The Doctor can stay in your room tonight," Dave conceded and Clara's face lit up. "As you say, if he makes you happy, then that makes me happy. You two are living together," he said it out loud and it sounded like a shock to him. "I suppose what happens is going to happen anyway and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Just please, try and keep the noise down. I think the idea of my daughter having sex is bad enough, I don't want to be able to hear it as well."

"Thanks dad," Clara whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too Sweetpea."

* * *

The Doctor looked like Christmas had come early when she told him. She felt the same way that he looked and she giggled like a schoolgirl when he climbed into her bed. It felt odd, the idea of having sex with the Doctor in her own bed, the bed she'd occupied since she was a little girl. They'd moved house, but they'd taken the bed with them and Clara had very mixed feelings about the whole thing. Nevertheless, when he kissed her, she forgot everything else and returned it, her love for him guiding her onwards. Sex, she had decided, wasn't anything to be ashamed of. It wasn't an ugly, disgusting thing that would violate her childhood memories of the bed. What it was, was a magical thing, an intertwining of two souls who were so intricately connected that they chose to let their bodies become one. When the Doctor kissed her, she felt like a princess. When he entered her, she felt like a goddess. They made love. It seemed cliché but Clara had long since learned that clichés are clichés for a reason. His touch set her alight, his lips sent agony through her. Clara Oswald knew that the Doctor loved her and that she loved him back and that that was all that could ever matter in the universe.

That night was the night that Clara would back on with the most fondness. It was probably the most magical night of her life, although very little could compete with the first time she and the Doctor had had sex. Her love for him was endless, matched only by his for her. And the knowledge that it was the first night of the rest of their lives was enough to make Clara giddy with joy. Whatever happened, she had the Doctor and that was good enough for her. She went to sleep lying in his arms and when she woke up, she was still lying in them. It was a feeling that still sent shivers down her spine. The feeling of his collarbone underneath her head, his arm loosely wrapped around her waist, the other just skimming her knee. His legs intertwined with hers, his great big whopping chin resting on the top of her head. The whole Doctor experience. Clara never felt ashamed when she was naked with him, she felt complete, as though clothes were an unnecessary evil that permeated their relationship.

Her self-confidence had been seriously shaken by Jessie but it had skyrocketed since she'd been with the Doctor. After a week of jibes from Mandy, her self-esteem had been clinging on for dear life but the way he had looked at her, the way he always looked at her when he could see her naked body, made Clara feel alive. The hunger, almost desperation in his eyes when he saw her, the way he drank her in, made her feel beautiful. His eyes were still closed, he hadn't woken. There was just a trickle of the morning light coming in from the window and it slashed across his face. His beautiful face. His floppy hair fell across his eye and Clara reached up to shift it, running her hand along his cheekbones, before sweeping upwards to move his hair. He stirred slightly and Clara stopped breathing for a second, hoping that he didn't wake up.

"Are you watching me sleep Closwald?" he asked, the sound rocking Clara to her core.

"You do it all the time," she riposted. "Is a girl not allowed to enjoy her moment? And stop calling me bloody Closwald, it's not cute or funny, it's just annoying."

"I think it's adorable," the Doctor countered and Clara punched his shoulder, sitting up and in doing so, she drove an elbow into his rib cage. "Oww!" he hissed.

"Reminds me of the time we first met," Clara said smugly and he grumbled at this. "Except this time, I get to be the one doing the elbowing. We have to be up in twenty minutes, it's a big day. My dad will kill me if we end behind schedule because we were having sex."

"Twenty minutes?" the Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Clara Oswald, what do you think of me?" Clara snorted and let herself drop back onto him. He groaned again as she inflicted more pain on him and then he kissed her lightly. "I suppose we'd better get a move on then."

"Clara!" she heard her dad shout and she rolled off the Doctor, grumbling irritatedly. "Fifteen minutes. Shower and hurry up! We need to be at the hotel in an hour for breakfast!"

Clara let out a string of expletives that the Doctor chuckled at as he ran a hand through her hair. She smiled sadly at him, but he didn't look even remotely phased.

"We can have a lot of fun in the shower," he pointed out. And in that moment, Clara remembered exactly why she loved him.


	37. Chapter 37: A New Beginning II

***What's this? It's not even noon I hear you clamour? To be frank I got bored so I thought I'd give in this final entry early as a gift to all my amazing readers, reviewers, followers (over 100 of you now wow) and favouriters (over 60 blimey). A special huge thank you to those of you out there who have reviewed chapter after chapter, time and time again. It feels great knowing that I'll always be able to chat to some of you who I know will always pitch in their thoughts. Right, we're on the last page, the final chapter. I'm gunning for an 8th February start for HEALING but it could be earlier or later so watch this space but I will post an update on here to let you know when I have posted it. This final chapter is fluffy as anything and has a smut warning on it so I hope you enjoy. It's been a fantastic adventure writing this story and sharing it with you amazing people so I hope you'll review and let me know your thoughts, both on this chapter and on the story as a whole because it means the world to me and I hope you'll stick with me for Healing. The Potter Doctor, signing off for the final time***

* * *

_She had been looking forward to this day for a while. Jessie was taking her to a swanky restaurant and she was really excited for it. He had promised that it would be an amazing way to celebrate 3 months together and she loved the sound of it. It sounded all fancy and Italian and Clara loved the idea of it. She spent ages getting ready, wearing a deep crimson dress that was long and swirly. She straightened her hair so it was gun-barrel straight, applied her makeup with razor sharp precision. She was whistling cheerily and then she picked up her phone and her heart sank. _

**_Sorry babe got the worst food poisoning known to man. Coming out both ends. I love you and we'll go out when I'm feeling better x_**

_She felt like complete shit. She screamed in frustration and hurled her phone at her bed, where it bounced off her pillow. There was a knock on her door and she was smiling before she answered it. Sure enough, the Doctor was stood there, adjusting his bow tie nervously, his own bedroom door across the hall open and as usual, his room was a state. His nervous smile warmed her heart straight away. He was her best friend and she loved him to bits. _

_"Is everything alright in there Clara?" he asked, before examining her and trying hard not to lose his composure. She forgot how when she dressed nicely he tended to lose his brain. "You look wonderful, what time is your dinner?"_

_"There is no dinner," Clara replied with a scowl that seemed to worry the Doctor. "The bastard has food poisoning, pretty nasty apparently, although I think he's spared me the gruesome details. Looks like I'm just going to stay in and order pizza. Care to join me?"_

_"No," the Doctor straightened up and Clara raised an eyebrow. "You're already dressed up all pretty and you deserve to have a wonderful night at an amazing restaurant. You already have reservations yes?" She nodded. "Well then, I can be your substitute boyfriend for the evening. I'll go and put on a fancy suit and we can go to dinner. I can be Mr Jessebelle FancyPants." This earned a laugh from Clara, who hugged him tightly. _

_"Thank you Doctor," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "I really appreciate it."_

_"Anytime Clara," he replied, his heart pounding like a jackhammer but she didn't notice. "Give me fifteen minutes."_

* * *

The Doctor smiled and took her hand. She bit her lip nervously. Breakfast was a fairly quiet affair. It was Clara, her dad, her gran, Mandy, the Doctor and Stuart and the Maid of Honour, a quiet woman by the name of Celia. The Doctor squeezed Clara's hand gently and she nudged him with her shoulder. They were eating pancakes. Clara was gobbling away as it was the most she'd been able to eat in over a week. Beside her, the Doctor was eating more reservedly than usual and she realised that he was still trying to impress her father.

"Yours are better," he muttered and she went bright red, almost choking on a bit of pancake. The Doctor patted her back quickly and she held up a hand to indicate that she was fine. Her father was shooting her a worried look and she smiled to show that she was fine.

"I'm alright," she said loudly, to make it clear to everyone who was still staring at her. "The Doctor was just complimenting the pancakes." She tried not to laugh and he was sat next to her, supressing a snort. They shared a look and they were gone, both of them unable to stop laughing as everyone else exchanged glances and tried to gauge what was so funny. The Doctor was almost crying and Clara's head was rolled back as she tried hard to breathe.

"Kids," Dave muttered. "We're splitting up after breakfast, Stu and I will see you wonderful ladies down the aisle. Mum, I love you and I'll see you later. Doctor, keep out of trouble."

The Doctor saluted appreciatively once he'd stopped laughing and Clara smiled. She wrapped her hand around his and kissed his cheek affectionately. They finished their pancakes and Clara was dragged off with the Maid of Honour and Mandy, to their dressing room. She was determined not to end up with the same amount of makeup as at the rehearsal dinner, so she slipped into her own room, where she went to change. She had stripped down to her bra and underwear, when she felt a hand touch her shoulder gently. Clara squealed and whirled round, ready to attack whoever had invaded her changing room and she fell into the arms of a smirking Doctor, who threw his tux onto a hook behind Clara.

"Hello Soufflé Girl," he whispered.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Clara replied in an equally low tone, unable to stop herself from smiling.

"Keeping out of trouble," he replied, a confused look on his face. "That's what your dad asked me to do right?"

"I would say Doctor," Clara purred as she kissed him lightly. "That this is pretty much the opposite of keeping out of trouble." She kissed him again now, throwing away his purple tweed and stripping him quickly.

"Well, I am keeping out of trouble," the Doctor replied, kissing her back and unlatching her bra within moments. "I'm just doing it badly."

"You can do me badly any day," Clara murmured, then pulled a face at the ridiculousness of what she had just said. "Not a word!" she cut him off as his own smirk had grown. She removed his trousers and they kept on kissing, hands entangled in each other's hair. They ended up on the floor, intertwined when Mandy knocked on the door. The changing room was very small, and Clara was fairly sure that she would be see able to see them if she peered under the door. The Doctor hadn't stopped and Clara felt ecstasy wash over her and she supressed a moan.

"Clara?" she called and Clara, unable to hold it in anymore, released a low groan of pleasure, muffling it in the Doctor's shoulder. "Well," Mandy sounded embarrassed. "I was going to ask if you knew where the Doctor was, but I'd say the answer is fairly obvious." She sounded decided unimpressed and Clara giggled as the Doctor let out a moan of his own and rolled off of her. "Your dad is going to flip," Mandy muttered.

"Yes he is," the Doctor looked scared. "Am I going to be uninvited from the wedding?"

"You'll be lucky to survive long enough to make it to the wedding," Clara replied breathlessly. "But it's so worth it. I love you."

"I love you too," he chuckled. She smiled at him and picked up his discarded purple bow tie. She tied it around her wrist and he shot her an odd look.

"It's for luck," she replied, blushing red. "I just want a piece of you beside me at all times, whatever happens. If this wedding is going to be the death of us, then I'd rather die with your bow tie wrapped around my wrist. Besides, you've got to wear the black one with your tux." He kissed her softly and she felt a tear run down her cheek. It was a tear of joy.

They dressed quickly, Clara feeling awfully exposed in her pale pink dress. The Doctor let her tie up his bow tie for him and when she nodded appreciatively, he took a deep breath. They kissed once and then left the changing room, ready to face the world. Mandy was sat down, some crazy stylist working on her hair, contorting it into a million different shapes. Clara, terrified that some insane tactic was going to be employed on her, turned frantically to the Doctor.

"Can you do my hair and makeup for me?" she asked him, before anyone had a chance to snatch her up. He shot her a look. She knew his thought process. He had a long and torturous history of consistently fucking up when it came to hair and makeup. After a moment, he nodded, his grin a sheepish one but full of love. Clara sat down, and immediately realised that there was no way that this was going to work. The Doctor had touched her shoulder and she was already having to bite her lip and hold back a shiver. As he ran his hand through her hair, pulling it out of its loose ponytail, she gasped slightly. He smiled at her in the mirror and she closed her eyes.

"Get on with it," she growled, opening one eye and unable to stop herself grinning like a schoolgirl. The Doctor brushed her hair and turned on the straighteners. "I don't care what you do, just do it. I'd better look good though." He knew what she meant by good. Better than Mandy was the gist of it. As much as Clara didn't want to upstage the bride on her wedding day, she most definitely wanted to upstage the bride on her wedding day. She was able to settle as the Doctor straightened her hair, swearing loudly and angrily as he caught his finger on multiple occasions.

"Would you like me to take over sir?" asked a snobbish, unpleasant stylist, who had a pair of tongs in one hand and a horrifically greasy spray in the other. The thought of him made Clara shudder.

"No thank you," the Doctor said sweetly, still holding his hand gingerly. "I'm perfectly okay here."

"Move along," Clara added, waving a hand to indicate and then she burst into laughter as the stylist went a funny shade of purple and stormed off. Mandy was only a few seats down and she was shooting Clara an exasperated look. Clara did feel a bit guilty. She wasn't taking the wedding even remotely seriously. But she hoped she could take her own wedding as seriously as she was taking this one. The idea of sneaking off to have sex with the Doctor when they were supposed to be getting married seemed like the most counter-productive but also fantastic idea ever.

"Could you please just let someone do their job?" Mandy asked, desperately.

"The Doctor is more than capable," Clara replied, almost stiffly. "We'll be ready on time, don't you worry."

By some small miracle, that turned out to be the case. The Doctor straightened Clara's hair and pulled half of it up into a small ponytail which contributed to a gorgeous half-up, half-down style. He applied a thin layer of foundation and some lipstick, with dashes of eyeliner and mascara. Clara opened her eyes when he was finished and beamed at him and her own reflection in the mirror.

"Good job!" she congratulated him, putting a hand on his arm. "You managed not to fuck it up. Your job as my personal stylist is still intact good sir!"

"Would you two get a move on?" Celia hissed. "We have about half an hour. You need to be in there in fifteen!"

Clara pulled on the most excruciating heels that she'd ever worn, making her a lot taller, but the Doctor still towered over her. He had slipped into his own pair of smart black shoes and she straightened his bow tie. They were ready. He was two steps behind her as they headed out to the room where it was all taking place. The Doctor took his seat and Clara headed up to the front, where she stood with the other four bridesmaids. They were all giving her filthy looks and Clara strongly suspected it was out of envy. They had been shooting her and the Doctor glances throughout the rehearsal dinner and she wondered if they were jealous of him as an attractive man or how happy she was. She didn't really care either way. They all looked beautiful in their dresses, but their snobbery undermined it and Clara felt naturally beautiful in her own way. With the Doctor staring at her from his own seat, a warm smile on his face, fumbling with the program, how could she not? He had dropped his program now and was diving around under his seat looking for it. He smashed his head on the way back up on the chair and Clara burst into a fit of laughter, earning her more looks of disgust from the pink brigade. She scuttled over to him, stumbling multiple times in her heels and almost falling flat on her face. She kissed the top of his head better and he smiled ruefully at her.

"Go!" he urged. "Your dad will be here any minute!"

She giggled and returned to the bridesmaids, whose looks had gone from unpleasant to downright poisonous. She didn't care. At all. The ceremony itself was short and beautiful, over before Clara knew it. She had to stand behind her father the entire time and her feet were absolutely killing her by the end. The happy couple ran down the aisle and people cheered. Clara staggered and suddenly, he was by her side, helping her stand. Clara went to throw off her shoes and then he went one better. He swept her into his arms and she squealed as he picked her up. People were filing out of the room and the Doctor carried Clara effortlessly. She appreciated more than words could say as she pulled the shoes from her feet, letting out an audible gasp of freedom. She smiled at him and kissed his chin and he winked at her. He carried her all the way to the changing room. The reception dinner was in an hour and they had all the time in the world to kill…

* * *

_Clara felt a lot better about how the evening had gone than she had expected. Yes, Jessie had abandoned her for a night with his toilet, but she had had a great time. The Doctor was every bit the perfect substitute boyfriend. He gave his best Jessie impression multiple times throughout the evening, kissing Clara's hand, offering insightful comments over dinner to the waiters about how wonderful Clara looked. He had got so magnificently into character and it was such a surreal yet hilarious evening, with her best friend pretending to be her boyfriend, that she almost never wanted it to end. She made a joke at the end of the night how being her boyfriend meant that he got the privileges that came with that and he had stumbled over his words, gone red and wished her a goodnight. Clara loved his awkwardness in so many ways. She saw that Jessie had texted her again, so she replied, her heart not really in it. Part of her wished that Jessie was more like the Doctor and part of her wished that the Doctor was more like Jessie. She disregarded that latter half, the Doctor was perfect just the way that he was. He was an amazing friend, she had been lucky to find him. And yet, her heart had fluttered when he'd kissed her hand. _

_She rolled it off. She had long since stopped paying any attention to the little flutters she got around the Doctor. They were nothing more than a childish affection. He was her best friend, her support mechanism. And, she had a boyfriend. She loved the Doctor, but he could never be her boyfriend. Clara smiled. But it would be nice if he could be._

* * *

Stuart gave a very long-winded, very carefully structured best man's speech that Clara thought was a little bit too careful not to mention Ellie. Throughout the day, she had noticed that there was a sense of tentativity around mentioning Dave's first wife, as if the very mention of her was dangerous for the upcoming nuptials. Clara herself missed her mum but she hadn't let it get to her. It felt beyond weird watching her dad remarry and she wasn't sure it would ever look right in her head. But she focused on getting through the day and the Doctor had enabled that. They were sat at the table, Dave chatting away animatedly to Stuart who had swapped places with Clara, so that Clara was now sandwiched between her grandmother and the Doctor. Clara sat back and the Doctor squeezed her arm, just like he had the very first time that they met. She loved him. Totally and completely. She pulled him into a long hug that she never wanted to end and then returned to picking at her food until the meal was over.

After dinner, the band struck up and Clara giggled as she watched her father and Mandy took the dance floor. The Doctor had already volunteered to take Clara's grandmother and Clara loved him even more as she watched him waltz with her gran. She sat there, just watching the Doctor for what seemed like an eternity. If what she felt for him wasn't the best feeling in the entire world, then she didn't know what was. Eventually, he was finished spinning around her gran and his hand was outstretched for her. She took it and he guided her onto the dance floor. Their bodies were pressed closely together and they moved in tandem, slowly at first, each step harmonised. Forwards and backwards, left and right they moved, the Doctor leading and Clara clinging to him like her life depended on it. The song sped up and Clara was lost in the music. She was lost in the feel of the Doctor as he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her up. She was flying. Truly flying and nothing could ever bring her down ever again. The feeling of elation didn't stop when her feet touched the ground. The Doctor pulled her in close and they slowed it down again, until they reached a stop. Clara leaned up and kissed him, her lips one with his. He smiled through the kiss and didn't stop when their lips broke apart. Clara stared longingly into his eyes and he looked back, with all the tenderness and love that she could see reflected in her own eyes in his. It was a weird inception moment where their eyes almost became one in his, reflecting each other the way that they did. Clara realised they were supposed to be dancing again, but she was completely lost in the Doctor's eyes.

"The words 'I love you' can't quite cover the way I feel about right now," she whispered to him.

"I know," he replied. "I was thinking the same thing. Clara Oswald, my Impossible Girl."

"The Doctor," she added with a smile. "My Doctor."

And in that moment, Clara was truly happy. And she didn't feel damaged anymore.


	38. Healing Synopsis and Sneak Peek

***Hello everyone! I'm back already! Healing is going much better than expected, it may be up as early as next Wednesday. And because it's going so well. I thought I'd give you guys a special treat. Here's a synopsis and a sneak peek at Chapter 1...***

**Synopsis:  
**_Clara Oswald is healing. Five years on from her father's remarriage and the loss of her best friend and Clara has the perfect job, an amazing boyfriend and an amazing set of friends. But when relationships and friends start crumbling all around her, Clara finds herself caught in a whirlwind of pain. With the Ponds relationship on the rack, Annabelle's life falling apart and the return of some old acquaintances stirring things up, Clara finds herself the only person who isn't suffering. But trouble is around the corner and can she and the Doctor hold on to what they have when everything else falls apart?_

**Sneak Peek: **

**_Chapter 1: Announcement_**

Henry Bloom had English first lesson of the morning on Tuesdays. Tuesday was Henry's least favourite day, as he had double history after lunch with Mr Dickhead. But, luckily, English was Henry's favourite class. Henry loved books, always had and the ability to study them at length was all he'd ever wanted. So when he'd gotten an A* at GCSE and told he could continue at A-level, he'd been thrilled. His English teacher at GCSE had been amazing. Mr Kemp had been fantastic, he knew all there was to know about books and his enthusiasm was unrivalled. So Henry had been gutted when he'd been told that he was getting the new English teacher for A-level. But, unbelievably, he ended up liking his new teacher even better than Mr Kemp.

His initial impression had been sceptical. She was new and young, only 24 or 25 by the looks of her. She had chocolate brown eyes and was very short. Her flowing brown hair just tickled her shoulders and was just tinged with honey and ginger, remnants of dying her hair blonde and red at university she informed him when he asked. When she leaned in, she smelled of strawberries and Henry hated strawberries. So he wasn't looking forward to it. She was nervous and shy and none of this filled him with courage. But once she started talking, Henry let his scepticism melt away. She knew books. She knew books better than she knew herself, Henry sensed. The passion in her voice filled him with joy and belief and he found himself locked on her every word. Miss Oswald knew her shit.

**That's all for now. Fairly mundane stuff but the first chapter was very difficult to find anything spoiler free. Check back soon, Healing is coming sooner than you might think.**


	39. Healing Update

***Hello Damaged Readers! It's time! Healing is a go! For all of you excited for it, I hope you enjoy it. And for those of you who enjoyed Damaged, I hope you check it out. Thanks for your support as ever :) The Potter Doctor***


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